They posed for photographs, hamming it up while displaying their medals. They beamed with pride as the National Anthem was played. And some of them even cried.

Then, they reflected on what they had accomplished: a seventh straight Olympic Gold medal and the type of rare dynastic run that makes them one of the most legendary teams in basketball history. The only outfit with more consecutive championships is the Boston Celtics, which captured eight consecutive NBA crowns from 1959-66. But since Bill Russell and his compadres weren’t taking on the whole world, an argument can be made that the U.S. Women’s National Team is the most dominant hoops squad ever.

The 2021 win over Japan in the Tokyo Olympic Games captured the Gold and extended the U.S. winning streak to a remarkable 55 games. There have been no hiccups or off nights. The team has operated as a thresher, ripping through every opponent and maintaining a rare focus that has produced legendary results.

“Our sustained success occurs because of the sacrifice of our players,” said 2021 head coach Dawn Staley, who played on three of the seven victorious teams. “We always have the best of the best.”

That makes Sue Bird and Diana Taurasi the best of the best of the best. They captured their fifth Gold medals in Tokyo and provided the kind of veteran leadership that has been a hallmark of the women’s team during the streak. Sylvia Fowles earned her fourth Gold with the victory. Out of the three, only Taurasi is playing in this year’s Games.

“There is an ultimate honor and pride with wearing this jersey,” said Taurasi. “I hope the next generation feels that same pride, that same respect, that same responsibility to make sure to come out here and play the right way. There’s nothing like it. There’s nothing like playing in the Olympics…When you put that USA on your chest, you’re playing for everyone who loves basketball in our country, and that responsibility that weighs heavy on us. That’s probably one thing we won’t miss.”

Although women’s basketball did not become an Olympic sport until 1976, the relationship between USA Basketball and the nation’s top female players dates back much further. U.S. teams have competed in World Championship/Cup and Pan American Games competitions since the 1950s. The women’s game has been an important—and highly successful—part of USA Basketball, and the continued success and domination of U.S. teams shows how robust the sport is in this country.

U.S. women have won nine Olympic Gold medals and 11 World Cup titles. They have featured the nation’s best players and some of its most legendary coaches. During its 50 years of existence, USA Basketball has strived to be the standard for the sport worldwide, and thanks to the success of its women’s teams, that goal has become a reality.

“This just doesn’t happen overnight,” Taurasi said after the Tokyo Gold medal game. “This is a process that happens over the years.”

EARLY DAYS

For many people, their first glimpse of women’s basketball was in the Association for Intercollegiate Athletics for Women (AIAW) college game or the first time the International Olympic Committee allowed women’s basketball to be contested. But U.S. women’s basketball goes back well before that. In 1926, the AAU began holding national championship tournaments, and 27 years later, in Santiago, Chile, the U.S. captured its first-ever world title.

Led by Katherine Washington, the 1953 team was made of seven members of the Nashville Business College team, one future member and another player, and it dumped the host Chile team, 49-36, in the final. Washington was again outstanding four years later, when the U.S. went to Rio and blitzed to a 6-0 record and a second-straight title. A 51-48 victory over the Soviet Union in the final game clinched the Gold.

That would be the U.S. team’s last victory over the USSR for a long time. The Soviets won the next four World Championship tournaments and went a perfect 23-0 in the process. When the teams met in the first Olympic women’s competition, the 1976 Games in Montreal, the USSR ripped the U.S. team, 112-77, in the group stage. A variety of circumstances kept the teams apart after that. The USSR did not participate in the 1979 World Championships, held in Seoul, because the nation did not have diplomatic relations with South Korea.

The United States boycotted the 1980 Moscow Olympics, which meant the teams’ meeting in the ’83 World Championships in Sao Paulo, Brazil, was their first in seven years. The result was a crushing, 84-82 American loss in the Gold medal game.

But that was it for any level of American disappointment. Big things were ahead, and the U.S. women were about to show the world how the sport was played.

STEPPING FORWARD

When the U.S. team arrived in Montreal in ’76 for the first-ever Olympics to include a women’s competition, they found a two-bedroom apartment waiting for them. That meant 12 players would have to cram into bunk beds and avoid tripping over each other. Those modest beginnings helped create the strong spine that has driven the U.S. teams in international play.

The Soviets boycotted the ’84 Los Angeles Games, but the talented U.S. team that won Gold featured standouts like Cheryl Miller and Lynette Woodard and was coached by the legendary Pat Summitt. While the USSR’s absence led many to debate whether the Americans could have defeated their main rivals, the ’88 Seoul Olympics answered any questions.

The U.S. won Gold and whipped the Soviets, 102-88, in the semifinals. The trio of Katrina McClain, Teresa Edwards and Cynthia Cooper led the team and made the Americans practically invincible. That wasn’t the case four years later, in Barcelona. While the men’s Dream Team stomped its way to Gold, the women could only manage a Bronze, thanks to a semifinal loss to the Unified Team, as the former Soviet Union was then known. That would be the last time the women’s team would stand on something other than the top level of the rostrum. Beginning in Atlanta, the U.S. became unstoppable.

The ’96 women’s team was a perfect 8-0, and no team came within 15 points of it. Led by coach Tara VanDerveer, the U.S. featured a deep, versatile team with Lisa Leslie, who averaged 19.5 ppg, McClain, Sheryl Swoopes and Ruthie Brown. The team’s 111-87 rout of Brazil in the Gold medal game featured 71.9 percent field-goal shooting in the first half. Simply put, the Brazilians didn’t have a chance.

As the rest of the world found out over the next six Olympiads, neither did anyone else.

TOTAL DOMINANCE

The numbers at the 2000 Olympics were extremely impressive. First off, the U.S. was 8-0 in the tournament and outscored its opposition by 21.7 ppg. Yes, the team was an offensive juggernaut, defeating teams like New Zealand by 50-plus points and shooting an average 50.8 percent from the field, but it also stifled its rivals, holding them to 37.7 percent success. Leslie and Swoopes again led the way, with Yolanda Griffith providing another strong offensive option. One of the biggest stories was Teresa Edwards’ decision to step away from international play after setting the record for most points scored in all competitions by a U.S. player and playing in five different Olympiads.

When the U.S. team went to Greece for the ’04 Games, things weren’t quite as easy, but that didn’t mean the Americans didn’t prevail. Their first six contests didn’t produce too much stress, although a 71-58 win over Spain had some moments of concern. Defeating Russia, 66-62, in the semifinals wasn’t easy, and the United States found itself matched up with Australia in the Gold medal game. Still, thanks to the team’s depth and talent, the U.S. prevailed, 74-63, for its third-straight Olympic Gold.

The story of the team was Leslie, who led everyone in scoring (15.6 ppg) and rebounding (8.0 rpg). It would be the standout’s third Olympic Games, and when the competition was over, she was the all-time U.S. leader in points, rebounds and blocked shots in Olympic play.

Although Leslie did not play as big a role in 2008 in Beijing, she was still formidable (10.1 ppg, 7.0 rpg). But Sylvia Fowles, Tina Thompson and Diana Taurasi took the lead as the Americans put together their most dominating performance to date, whipping their eight opponents by an average of 37.6 ppg for the fourth Gold in their seven-Olympiad streak. Even the final against Australia (again) wasn’t competitive, with the United States romping, 92-65.

Leslie joined Edwards as the only athlete, male or female, to win four Olympic basketball Golds.

Gold medal number five in the string was captured in London, with France providing the opposition in the final game. In what was becoming a ritual, the U.S. skunked its rivals by more than 30 points a game (34.4) and only had one team come within 25 points. Bird and Taurasi teamed with Tamika Catchings as captains, and all three were key contributors. Taurasi led the team with 12.4 ppg, Bird handed out 4.5 apg and Catchings was stout on the boards and the defensive end. The world may not have liked it, but the U.S. was rolling, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

That was certainly the case in Rio, when the U.S. topped the century mark in six of its eight wins. The final was a 101-72 rout of Spain, and the team’s average margin of victory was 37.2 ppg. The Taurasi-Catchings-Bird triumvirate again provided the necessary leadership, but the team was filled with so many stars that it was difficult to imagine a need for someone to be out front. Any of the team members could have—and did—fill that role.

The triumph demonstrated the growing breadth of USA Basketball’s developmental abilities. It’s likely that a team of 12 other American players could have won Gold, had the squad that tore through Rio stayed home. A sport that didn’t gain Olympic acceptance until 40 years after the men’s version debuted had surpassed its male counterpart in terms of dominance. That shocked some—although it shouldn’t have—the women’s professional game has been quite mature and widespread internationally for decades.

As the Paris Games dawn, it is clear USA Basketball has perfected the formula for success in the women’s realm. The game is ripening every year at the prep, college and WNBA levels, providing an endless stream of talent for the national team. There’s no guarantee of Gold in the coming Olympiad—or any other—but it’s hard to imagine another country with the resources and commitment necessary to usurp the U.S.

In other words, fans of the U.S. women’s team should get ready for another celebration this summer. 

SLAM PRESENTS USA BASKETBALL IS AVAILABLE NOW

Photos via Getty Images.

The post The Best of the Best: A Journey Through the USA Women’s National Team’s Historical Dominance Over the Years appeared first on SLAM.

When the 1992 Olympic Dream Team used a ridiculous, 46-1 first-half run to turn its opening game against Angola into an emphatic statement of what was ahead for the rest of the world in Barcelona, it did more than just validate forward Charles Barkley’s prediction that Angola was “in trouble.”

It began a brand-new era for USA Basketball. After decades of sending the nation’s top collegians up against the world’s best, it was time to show everybody just how Dr. Naismith’s invention was meant to be played. From that point on, NBA stars populated teams that played in—and most of the time won—the biggest competitions.

But U.S. basketball domination didn’t start in ’92, and USA Basketball’s tradition isn’t just about the Dream Team. The country’s hoops governing body has created a legacy of success that has featured some of the game’s greatest players and most exciting results. The U.S. first stepped onto the international stage in 1936, when the sport was initially contested at the Olympics, and since that time it has been the world leader in the sport. As the nation’s governing body, USA Basketball has been the north star for the sport and has played a role in bringing basketball to America and the world. It has also provided an opportunity for U.S. fans to experience the game’s best playing together, as part of a vibrant red, white and blue tradition. 

In 1974, the Amateur Basketball Federation of the United States of America (ABAUSA) was formed to bring all of the nation’s various organizations under the same governing body. Fifteen years later, the ABAUSA changed its name to USA Basketball, but its mission remained clear: provide the best possible support and leadership for U.S. teams to compete and win on the world’s biggest basketball stages, while also growing the game throughout the country. To say that it has been successful in that mission is a gigantic understatement. 

Under USA Basketball’s leadership, the nation’s top players and coaches continue to dominate. The Men’s National Team has won nine of the last 11 Olympic Gold medals (the U.S. did not participate in the 1980 Moscow Games) and the last four. It has also captured four world championships over the last three-plus decades—in 1986, 1994, 2010 and 2014—and another in 1954. There have been numerous titles in competitions like the Pan Am Games and other tournaments worldwide. As the Paris Olympic Games approach, the U.S. is heavily favored to defend its Gold-medal status, thanks to a team of 12 NBA All-Stars that includes four MVPs and six NBA champions. It’s another example of the strong relationship between USA Basketball and the country’s greatest players, whose desire to represent their country is deep, and whose talent is overwhelming. Former NBA All-Star and 1996 Gold medalist Grant Hill, now USA Basketball’s Men’s Team Managing Director, selected the team and filled it with versatile standouts. 

“The United States is home to some of the best basketball players in the world, and I appreciate the vast interest in being part of this roster,” Hill said. “These decisions weren’t easy, but it was a pleasure to go through the process and reach this outcome.”

EARLY DOMINANCE

More than 40 years after Naismith invented his game, the International Basketball Federation (originally known as FIBB) was born in 1932, and plans were made for the sport to be part of the 1936 Berlin Olympics. A field of 22 squads played, but it was really only about one team: the United States, which finished the competition 4-0 (there were no medal rounds) to claim the Gold. 

Six straight Golds followed for the U.S., which was rarely challenged. The nation’s best collegians and recent graduates took on the world. Rival teams were often comprised of much older players, some of whom were paid—although no country would ever admit to it. It didn’t matter. From 1936-68, the U.S. went 55-0 in Olympic play, the type of dominance many expected from the country that invented the sport.

Among the standouts during that stretch were center Joe Fortenberry, who averaged 14.5 ppg in 1936, forward Clyde Lovellette (13.9 ppg) on the ’52 team, San Francisco big man Bill Russell (14.1 ppg) in 1956, 1960 standouts Oscar Robertson and Jerry Lucas, both of whom averaged 17.0 ppg, and Spencer Haywood, whose 16.1 ppg led the 1968 squad to Gold.

Haywood was the first college freshman ever invited to try out for the Olympic team, and the 19-year-old from tiny Trinidad State JC in Colorado proved he belonged. Not only did he score plenty—he had 21 in the Gold medal win over Yugoslavia—he also set an Olympic record for field-goal percentage (71.9) that still stands.

But Haywood, like so many of the great players who have represented the U.S. internationally, was part of a team. He could have scored even more, but he blended with other standouts to help continue a tradition that has defined USA Basketball: representing the United States.

For decades, the U.S. was the world’s supreme basketball powerhouse, but trouble was looming. The Soviet Union had invested heavily in its sports programs, with the goal of promoting Communism around the world. When Haywood stood on the podium and watched a giant American flag unfurl in the Mexico City arena, he could not have known the turbulence that lay ahead.

BIG CHANGES

The next 20-plus years were a time of great transformation for the nation’s top basketball organization. It all began in 1972, when the United States team suffered a crushing, 51-50 loss to the USSR in the Gold medal game in Munich. The contest featured enough confusion and controversy to fill an entire Olympiad. A U.S. protest was denied, and the American players refused to accept their Silver medals. It was the first Olympic loss in U.S. history, and it remains a dark chapter.

Two years later, the ABAUSA was created as a response to a decision by the international body (by then renamed FIBA) to revoke its recognition of the AAU, which had governed the sport in this country. The new organization brought together representatives from every amateur basketball confederation in the country and began its 50-year run of leading the nation’s basketball fortunes.

One of its first successes came in 1976 at the Montreal Olympiad, when the U.S. gained a measure of revenge for the ’72 debacle. The Americans rolled to a 7-0 record and the Gold medal. Although the final win came against Yugoslavia, which had upset the USSR in the semifinals, and not the Soviets, it was still a great first act on the largest international stage for America’s new governing body. 

Since the U.S. didn’t participate in the 1980 Moscow Olympics, and the USSR boycotted the ’84 Games in Los Angeles, the two basketball superpowers didn’t meet again until 1988, in South Korea. The matchup didn’t take place in the final round, rather in the semis, and the U.S. was unable to overcome a loaded Soviet team that included future NBA standouts Arvydas Sabonis and Sarunas Marciulionis and fell, 82-76. Although the Americans won the Bronze by routing Australia, it was clear changes needed to be made, since the U.S. was using college players against teams with much older—and professional—competitors. 

In April of 1989, FIBA made the historic decision to allow countries to use professional players on its international teams. Although the U.S. delegation voted against the change, the 56-13 decision was emphatic and created the opportunity for the U.S. to bring its best players to the world. Then-ABAUSA president Dave Gavitt declared the move necessary “in this new, worldwide era.” That October, the ABAUSA changed its name to USA Basketball.

FIBA had taken the big step. It was time for the United States to show basketball fans everywhere, from one side of the world to the other, what that meant.

STILL DREAMING

Barkley’s pre-Olympics prediction that Angola “was in trouble” could have applied to every opponent the Dream Team faced in 1992. The U.S. roster, comprised of 12 future Basketball Hall of Famers, blitzed to the Gold medal and won its eight games by a combined 43.8 ppg. Croatia’s 32-point defeat in the Gold medal game was the closest any rival came. Head coach Chuck Daly, who never called a timeout during the Olympics, put it well afterward.

“You will see a team of professionals in the Olympics again, but I don’t think you’ll see another team quite like this. This was a majestic team.”

Daly was right. There have been other teams filled with NBA stars that have brought Gold medals to the U.S. The ’96 version was nearly as dominant, winning its eight games by an average of 31.2 ppg. But the first squad, which included some of the best players to walk the planet (Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird) and one of arguably the top five collegians of all time (Christian Laettner), remains the ultimate standard.

Yes, there was that hiccup in 2004 when the U.S. managed only a Bronze. But in every other Olympic competition since the Dream Team’s triumphant march onto the world’s court, the United States has been golden. The 2008 “Redeem Team” re-established the U.S. as the world’s best and began a run that American fans hope will continue this year in Paris.

Although the 2021 U.S. team dropped its first game to France, snapping its 25-game Olympic winning streak, it rebounded to roll into the Gold medal rematch with its group-stage nemesis. Thanks to 29 points from Kevin Durant, who averaged 20.7 for the tournament, the U.S. avenged its earlier loss and brought home a fourth-straight Gold medal, 87-82, over France. 

The tough road demonstrated how USA Basketball had helped spread the game across the planet. When Jordan, Magic and Bird formed the Dream Team and overwhelmed all comers in ’92, the sport of basketball was still germinating worldwide. Over the next 30 years, it has blossomed remarkably, with many different countries boasting the kind of talent capable of challenging the U.S. The game is now loved worldwide and its growth is encouraging, due in large part to USA Basketball’s ability to nurture it at home and export it around the globe.

THE FUTURE

The U.S. Olympic team may be the most visible part of the USA Basketball profile, but the organization promotes and grows the game at every level. That means sponsoring youth camps and clinics, coaching academies, regional and national tournaments and international teams that participate in a variety of competitions. 

It’s not all about winning. USA Basketball is committed to player development, safety and good sportsmanship. The organization continues to make sure the game thrives at all levels, and while it is fun to root on the U.S. teams against the world, it is also important to make sure all who play the game do so in environments that feature everything necessary for success and enjoyment of the sport.

As the 2024 Men’s National Team prepares for Paris, they carry with them all the years of training and development USA Basketball has given them. The world will be watching. And that includes the young athletes of USA Basketball’s development and junior teams, who might one day be a part of history.

SLAM PRESENTS USA BASKETBALL IS AVAILABLE NOW

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The post Winning Time: Chronicling the History of USA Basketball’s Men’s National Team appeared first on SLAM.

Here’s our official 2023-24 Women’s College Basketball season preview.

1. LSU: Nobody can predict what Tigers coach Kim Mulkey will be wearing while prowling the sidelines, but everybody knows All-American Angel Reese is an unstoppable force. Louisville transfer Hailey Van Lith is a standout, and the backcourt is top-shelf. 

2. Connecticut: Paige Bueckers is back and healthy and will join Azzi Fudd in the nation’s top backcourt. Assist machine Nika Mühl is another top guard, while forward Aaliyah Edwards is a big-time talent up front. If she gets help in the paint, UConn could hang another banner. 

3. Iowa: If you don’t know about Caitlin Clark, you must have been watching hockey all last winter. The high-scoring guard is one of the nation’s best, but she needs help. Guards Kate Martin and Gabbie Marshall are top candidates, but Clark is the big show. 

4. UCLA: Guards Charisma Osborne and Kiki Rice are the big names, but the Bruins welcome back eight players from last year’s rotation and add 6-7 center Lauren Betts from Stanford. Forward Emily Bessoir is ready to bust out. 

5. South Carolina: Dawn Staley’s Gamecocks are now Final Four fixtures, and there’s no reason to think they won’t get there this year. Oregon transfer Te-Hina Paopao is a big-time guard, and Kamilla Cardoso will be unstoppable inside. 

6. Utah: Nobody knew about the Utes before last year, but they know now. A Sweet 16 appearance and the return of all five starters, led by star forward Alissa Pili, means Utah will attract way more attention this time. 

7. Ohio State: The Buckeyes may need some time for the offense to develop, but OSU will play some nasty D from day one. Adding a backcourt ballhawk like Celeste Taylor from Duke will make Ohio State even tougher to handle. 

8. Texas: Some might think this is a bit high for the ’Horns, but if forward Aaliyah Moore’s knee is healed, it might not be high enough. Rori Harmon is a two-way dynamo at guard, and Shaylee Gonzales is another dangerous backcourt weapon. 

9. Indiana: Yes, Grace Berger is gone, but have you met Mackenzie Holmes? If not, get acquainted with her. She’s a big threat inside, and should opponents double her, there are a bunch of shooters outside to loosen up the D. 

10. Virginia Tech: The Hokies are loaded with talent, and if everybody gets along like last year, look out. Center Elizabeth Kitley will team with standout guards Georgia Amoore and Cayla King in a tough, inside-out combo, while Minnesota transfer Alanna Micheaux will help plenty inside. 

11. Tennessee: It’s hard to believe the Vols haven’t won the SEC in 10 years, but this crew will mount a big challenge. Forward Rickea Jackson is a standout, while 6-6 pivot Tamari Key can lock down the middle. Belmont point guard transfer Destinee Wells can dish and score. 

12. Notre Dame: It’s all about the backcourt in South Bend, and the top guard is Olivia Miles—provided her knee is healed. Sharpshooter Sonia Citron is a great weapon, while freshman Hannah Hidalgo could be special right away.  

13. Baylor: These Bears will pile up the points, thanks to a roster loaded with bucket-getters. Guard Sarah Andrews leads the way, but Darianna Littlepage-Buggs, Aijha Blackwell, Jada Walker and Dre’Una Edwards can all fill it up. 

14. Mississippi: Not everybody on the Rebel roster started at Ole Miss, but fans are sure happy they came to campus. Marquesha Davis, Madison Scott, and Snudda Collins are the core of a tough defensive unit fortified by talented transfers. 

15. Louisville: Yes, the Cards lost Hailey Van Lith to the portal, but they added slick point guard Jayda Curry to a team with high-scoring guards Sydney Taylor and Kiki Jefferson. U of L will miss Van Lith, but this year’s aggregation can be special. 

16. North Carolina: The Tar Heels are deep, experienced and dangerous. Expect newcomers Lexi Donarski and Maria Gakdeng to contribute right away, while Deja Kelly and Alyssa Ustby are back after earning first-team All-ACC honors a year ago. 

17. Florida State: Ta’Niya Latson’s injury late last year hurt the Seminoles greatly. But she’s back, along with high-scoring Makayla Timpson and Sara Bejedi, an inside-out tandem. Look out for transfer guard Alexis Tucker.  

18. Maryland: You never have to worry about the Terps making enough outside shots. They can launch. The arrival of transfer Jakia Brown-Turner will make Maryland even more dangerous. Shyanne Sellers is a fine distributor, but depth could be a problem. 

19. Colorado: Everybody’s talking about Coach Prime and the CU football team, but the Buffs should be tough on the hardwood, too, thanks to six top returnees, most notably guard Jaylyn Sherrod and forward Quay Miller. 

20. Stanford: The Cardinal lost a ton of players from last year’s squad, and Tara VanDerveer’s rotation will be thin, but forward Cameron Brink is a star, and Talana Lepolo has a lot of potential at the point.  

21. USC: The big news will be made by the newcomers. Former Ivy League snipers McKenzie Forbes and Kayla Padilla have talent, but the big name is freshman JuJu Watkins, who is almost unstoppable off the dribble.  

22. Creighton: Defending the Bluejays is hardly an easy job because they move the ball so well and end up with a bunch of open three-pointers. Four key players—Lauren Jensen, Morgan Maly, Emma Ronsiek and Molly Mogensen—are back to fire away. 

23. Washington State: The Coogs are hoping to get their first-ever NCAA tourney win this year, and a deep returning cast, led by Charlisse Leger-Walker, could well make it happen. Wazzu is knocking. It’s time to get through the door. 

24. Nebraska: Cornhusker fans prefer to forget the end of last season, but the returning duo of Jaz Shelley and Alexis Markowski should make ’23-24 memorable. Montana State transfer Darian White is first-rate. 

25. Kansas State: Gabby Gregory decided one more year in Manhattan was a good idea, and that means big things for the Wildcats. If 6-6 center Ayoka Lee is healthy, K-State will be a major Big 12 factor. 

Photos via Getty Images. LSU portrait by Marcus Stevens.

The post WSLAM’s 2023-24 NCAA Women’s College Basketball Preview appeared first on SLAM.

There will be tons of upsets throughout the 2023-24 college basketball season, of course, but we’re betting the last teams standing next April will be some familiar names. Don’t @ us.

Here’s our official 2023-24 Men’s College Basketball season preview.

1. Duke: The returns of Kyle Filipowski, Jeremy Roach, Tyrese Proctor, and Mark Mitchell, along with another crop of four and five-star standouts, will make Jon Scheyer look like a pretty darn good coach this year.  

2. Kansas: The Jayhawks are deep, versatile, and nasty on defense. Adding Michigan center Hunter Dickinson makes them lethal in the pick-and-roll. If KU can stroke it from the outside, it will be national title time. 

3. Michigan State: Tom Izzo says a Big Ten team has to win it all to prove the conference is elite. Here’s a squad that can do it. The Spartans will grind like no other team, have plenty of experience and boast a first-rate backcourt.  

4. Marquette: The Golden Eagles aren’t that big, and they don’t bang the boards like Visigoths, but oh, that backcourt. Tyler Kolek, Stevie Mitchell, and Kam Jones can pile it on, and there should be enough inside for a shot at the Final Four. 

5. Tennessee: Behold the college basketball equivalent of oral surgery. The Vols play like someone wants to steal their rent money. The guards are rugged, and if Zakai Zeigler’s knee is healthy, big things—and sore opponents—lie ahead. 

6. Purdue: He’s back! The Big Maple, unguardable 7-4 center Zach Edey, returns to own the paint. The question is whether Fletcher Loyer and the perimeter team can hit shots. If they can, the Boilermakers will thrive. 

7. Houston: Kelvin Sampson has done a masterful job creating a sustainable powerhouse with defense and tough love. The Cougars aren’t pretty and certainly aren’t fun to play, but they have won big—and will continue to do so. 

8. Creighton: The Bluejays lost some talent to the portal but then added experienced contributors the same way. Call it a wash. Ryan Kalkbrenner is a two-way force inside, and he’s surrounded by strong perimeter scorers. 

9. Baylor: There are a bunch of new Bears, but they are good. Really good. Look out for freshmen guards Ja’Kobe Walter and Miro Little. Transfer RayJ Dennis can fill it up, and holdover Jalen Bridges is a steady frontcourt piece. 

10. Florida Atlantic: Last year was a magical one-off, right? Right? Nope, all but one of the key Owls are back and ready for more. FAU is loaded with talented, experienced guards and has good depth. This encore should be fun. 

11. Arizona: The Wildcats were big and slow last year. They’re a lot quicker this time. Transfers Caleb Love and Keshad Johnson will be immediate standouts, and big man Oumar Ballo will cause all sorts of problems inside. 

12. Villanova: It’s time for Nova to head back to where it belongs. Last year was an anomaly. Guard Justin Moore and big man Eric Dixon are major producers, and four transfers will add depth and versatility.  

13. Connecticut: The defending champs lost some real stalwarts, but big man Donovan Clingan is a budding star, Tristen Newton and Alex Karaban have plenty of experience, and Rutgers transfer Cam Spencer and a loaded crop of freshmen have arrived. 

14. North Carolina: Armando Bacot and RJ Davis are back for their ninth seasons in Chapel Hill. At least it feels that way. Freshman point man Elliot Cadeau is the human assist and transfers Harrison Ingram and Cormac Ryan are welcome additions. 

15. Gonzaga: You want points? The Zags score plenty of them. Drew Timme’s gone, but Mark Few found a bunch of high-octane newcomers to join returning starters Nolan Hickman and Anton Watson. Time to spin the scoreboards again. 

16. Kentucky: It’s been a while since John Calipari’s bunch has made a national splash. It could happen this year. The freshman class is ridiculous. There are actual seniors (Antonio Reeves and Tre Mitchell) on the roster. UK is back. 

17. Illinois: The Illini were supposed to be tough last year, but they sagged. Terrence Shannon Jr is back to make ’23-24 different. He’s joined by the usual strong cast of transfers. If Illinois can shoot it, plenty of wins will follow. 

18. Miami: Wonder why Jim Larrañaga keeps hanging around Coral Gables? It’s teams like this. Nijel Pack is a top-shelf guard, Norchad Omier can cause big problems inside, and wing Wooga Poplar is ready for big things. 

19. Texas A&M: The Aggies waited until after the calendar turned to 2023 last season to play their best ball. There should be no delay this season, thanks to point man Wade Taylor IV and three other returning starters. 

20. Arkansas: Mr. Transfer is at it once again in Fayetteville. Eric Musselman imported seven players from other schools, with Tramon Mark and Khalif Battle expected to team with returnee Davonte Davis in a potent backcourt. 

21. San Diego State: The Aztecs lost a lot, but they will still grind and defend and fight. That’s worth a lot. Lamont Butler leads four key holdovers, and USC transfer Reese Dixon has plenty of talent. 

22. Texas: High-scoring Oral Roberts transfer Max Abmas brings serious juice to the Longhorns’ attack. Rodney Terry is now the full-time boss, and he has guard Tyrese Hunter and forward Dylan Disu as featured performers. 

23. UCLA: Presenting the most interesting roster in college hoops. The Bruins are filled with international players, could start two centers, and could look like a Euro professional team, style-wise. They might even try to play with one of those orange-and-white FIBA basketballs. 

24. Virginia: The Cavs lost in the first round again last year. When that happened in 2018, they won it all the following season. It will be about defense again at UVA, with Reece Beekman up top and a bunch of stingy friends around him. 

25. St. John’s: Fast-talking Rick Pitino spent the offseason convincing a pile of high-scoring transfers to join potent pivot Joel Soriano in Queens. Jordan Dingle and Chris Ledlum were Ivy League killers, and Daniss Jenkins was a big producer at Iona. 

Duke fans, this one’s for you. Get your copy of SLAM 247 copy and cover tees.

Photos via Getty Images

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Kobe Bryant’s career was nearing its end when he stretched out on a trainer’s table in the Lakers’ locker room for some restorative work on a body that had given two decades to the NBA. As he received treatment, Bryant entertained a visitor, Kentucky’s John Calipari, who in 1996 had been hired as head coach by the then-New Jersey Nets—the same year Bryant had bypassed college and headed directly into the NBA Draft.

Jersey had the eighth pick in that draft, and there was speculation the Nets would make Bryant just the second prep player chosen since 1975. But the franchise selected Kerry Kittles instead, thanks to a Nets ownership group unwilling to take a chance on a 17-year-old prospect. Meanwhile, Lakers GM Jerry West was engaging in some back-channel dealing that eventually brought Bryant to L.A.

“I saw Kobe in the locker room, and he said, ‘Cal, you should have taken me. You would still be in the League,’” Calipari says.

Calipari wanted to take Bryant. After working him out three times before the Draft, the coach knew the guard would be a star. But it isn’t always as simple as writing a player’s name on a card and handing it to the commissioner to be announced. And everything that happened in ’96 proved that. So, the Nets passed on Bryant and chose Kittles instead. Eleven other teams refused to take Bryant, too. Meanwhile, West convinced Charlotte to trade Bryant—whom they had taken with the 13th selection—to the Lakers for center Vlade Divac. And Bryant became one of the League’s all-time greats.

“I thought for sure someone would take him before 13,” West says. “When he was there, it was a celebration.”

The former Lower Merion HS star went from top target of the Nets to a draft choice of Charlotte to Los Angeles, where he would team with Shaquille O’Neal—a Lakers free agent acquisition later that summer—to win three titles. It was a perfect example of West’s shrewd eye for talent and his salesmanship skills, combined with the lack of certainty around the League that players, particularly wings, could make the jump from high school to the NBA. Throw in a lack of cohesiveness from a New Jersey franchise that featured a new brain trust in Calipari and GM John Nash operating under an ownership structure trying fruitlessly to step away from a lack of success, and you have a series of events and machinations that impacted NBA history for 20 years.

Bryant’s announcement that he would be heading straight from high school to the NBA surprised even his coach, Gregg Downer, who admits he didn’t know his star player’s plans until Bryant informed a jam-packed press conference that he had “decided to skip college and take [his] talents to the NBA.” By doing that, Bryant joined a talented crop of ’96 Draft hopefuls that included Allen Iverson, Stephon Marbury, Ray Allen, Steve Nash and Peja Stojakovic and spawned a League-wide debate over whether he was ready to play at the highest level. Several teams thought he wasn’t. West believed he was.

Bryant had two workouts for the franchise, the second against star Lakers defender Michael Cooper. After 10 minutes of that exhibition, West was convinced the organization had to do whatever it could to get Bryant.

“Not only was he physically equipped, more importantly, he was skilled, and you could see his love of the game,” West says.

But it wouldn’t be easy. The Lakers had the 24th pick in the draft, and there was no way Bryant would fall that far. “I told [Bryant’s agent Arn Tellem], ‘This guy is going in the top three,’” West says.

If that was the case, West had some work to do to land Bryant.

GRAB YOUR COPY OF SLAM PRESENTS ’96 DRAFT FOR EVEN MORE GOODIES FROM THE ISSUE.

It was a catered dinner in a hotel near the Nets’ arena, where the ’96 Draft would be held. Nash and Calipari hosted Joe and Pam Bryant, Kobe’s parents, and told them Jersey would be choosing their son with the eighth overall pick.

“We were discussing what their expectations were,” Nash says. “Joe thought Kobe would start as a rookie and be All-Star-caliber his second year.” 

Nash and Calipari believed Joe Bryant’s hopes for his son were a little high but they were still committed to selecting him, and they believed the Bryants were satisfied with the situation. As it turns out, that wasn’t true. According to West, Tellem told him the Bryants were afraid there would be too many distractions for their son on the East coast and that it would be a good idea for him to get away from home.

As Draft Day dawned, the Nets were still planning to select Bryant. But that all changed over the course of several hours, beginning with a lunch date. At the time, the Nets were owned by a group of seven men, including Joe Taub, who was charged with overseeing the basketball operations. He was not too enthusiastic about Bryant joining the team.

“Joe’s fear was that we would invest time in this young player, bring him along, and when the time came, he would leave in free agency,” Nash says. “That’s what had happened in New Jersey. People didn’t see it as a destination.”

Taub had a point. The Nets chose Kenny Anderson with the second pick of the ’91 Draft and had to trade him to Charlotte during the ’95-96 season because Anderson had announced his intentions to become a free agent the following summer. Derrick Coleman, whom New Jersey took No. 1 overall in 1990, signed a five-year deal with the team before the ’94-95 campaign but demanded a trade the following fall because he wanted to play for a contender. Taub wanted the Nets to select Syracuse forward John Wallace, whom Calipari and Nash did not think would be an NBA star.

“The owners told me, ‘Cal, why take a high school kid with the first pick?’” Calipari says. “They were adamant that I didn’t do it.”

Taub had just hired Calipari, who felt making a move his new boss didn’t like wasn’t the best thing to do so early in a business relationship. Calipari and Nash’s second choice was Kittles, a consensus All-American at Villanova who became a strong scorer for the Nets before hurting his knee.

“I thought that in five years, Kobe would be the guy,” Calipari says. “For three years, Kerry Kittles would be better.”

When the phone rang at 2:30 p.m. on Draft Day, Calipari and Nash began to see that something was going on. Tellem informed the Nets that the Bryant family was no longer interested in Kobe going to Jersey. “I stated our position as forcefully as I could and in a professional manner,” says Tellem, now the Pistons’ vice chairman. It was a surprising turn. Nash made some calls to find out what was going on. Calipari asked David Pendergraft, Jersey’s Director of Player Personnel, what he thought. “He said, ‘Somebody has a deal,’” Calipari says.

He was right. Tellem and West were good friends, and after working out Bryant, West told Tellem the high schooler had “a chance to be an all-time great.” West and Tellem spoke regularly as West tried to find a trade partner that would allow him to grab Bryant. He found one in Charlotte. “Once Jerry and [Charlotte GM] Bob Bass gave me their word the trade was real, I contacted New Jersey,” says Tellem.

The idea that Bryant would fall to the 13th spot was quite surprising to West, who believed the guard was a top-three talent and had started there in the draft hierarchy with his attempts to deal Divac. But Tellem wasn’t surprised. “[Teams between New Jersey and Charlotte] wouldn’t have had the guts to take him,” says Tellem, who limited Bryant’s exposure to several NBA clubs. One person who agreed with West was Tony DiLeo, who at the time was in the Sixers personnel department and is now director of college personnel with the Wizards. DiLeo had seen Bryant play pickup games against Sixers players the previous September and had been impressed by the prep senior’s “supreme confidence.” DiLeo also says Bryant would play one-on-one with Jerry Stackhouse, the team’s first pick in 1995 (third overall), and the games “were very competitive.” At one point, Sixers coach John Lucas had to stop the competition because it had become too intense.

DiLeo had seen Bryant play several times at Lower Merion and had helped prepare him for his pre-draft workouts. He was so convinced Bryant would be a star that he pitched two ideas to new Sixers GM Brad Greenberg. The first was to choose Bryant first overall. Greenberg considered that too great a risk. Remember that when Minnesota drafted Garnett fifth overall the previous year, he was the first player to go straight from high school to the NBA in 20 years. Plus, Garnett was a big man, and thus more coveted in the mid-’90s NBA.

“People always wanted big guys,” West says. “They thought they could dominate the game. No one knew what the rule changes would do.”

DiLeo says he also suggested trading Stackhouse for a lottery pick and choosing Bryant. It may not have worked out, but a pairing of Bryant and Allen Iverson, whom the Sixers chose first overall, would have been fascinating to watch. “We discussed it,” DiLeo says. “I don’t think Brad was comfortable with it. He was a first-time GM. I understand.”

At dinner in the Nets locker room before the draft, Calipari announced to the owners and others that the team would be choosing Kittles, but that if he was not there, the Nets would take Bryant “no matter what.” When the Clippers selected Lorenzen Wright seventh overall, Calipari heard an outburst of cheers from the other side of the wall in the Nets’ war room. The owners were happy. Kittles would be a Net.

“[The Nets] were going to take [Bryant], and John Nash didn’t want to give in just because the owners were a little nervous,” Tellem says. “But Calipari was a new coach, and based on my conversation with them, obviously they decided it wasn’t worth the risk.”

So, would Bryant have gone to Jersey if the Nets had chosen him?

“That will remain a great mystery,” Tellem says. “I will take that to the grave.”

West and the Hornets sweated through the next four picks—all big men—and then Charlotte chose Bryant. But the deal between the two teams wasn’t finalized until 13 days after the draft, because Divac initially balked at being traded and threatened to retire if the deal was made. (Shortly thereafter, he changed his mind and agreed to play for the Hornets.) Less than a week later, O’Neal signed with the Lakers, and L.A. went from what West considered “good” to a three-time champion.

“It was like Christmas for the Lakers,” West says. “We got Kobe Bryant and Shaquille O’Neal in the same summer.

“Kobe didn’t just want to be a player. He wanted to be a major performer. He wanted to blow people away.”

And that he did.

—

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“Go play where you want to play when your contract is up,” he says.

But since he is no longer on the court and instead serving as Sixers GM, Brand is really now a company man. The attitude he developed during his 17-year NBA career must be replaced by a more team-centric approach.   

“I want to hold on to players as long as I can,” he says.  

Brand understands the irony of his statements. He also knows that his days as a mid-range shooting, low-post loving big man are gone. He’s management now, and that means he must go from being a mentor to youngsters to serving as their boss.     

It has been a quick ride. Brand retired after the 2015-16 season, during which he played in a mere 17 games for Philly and scored 70 total points, a long way from his days as a two-time All-Star and double-double machine who earned the nickname “Old School Chevy” for his throwback game. Brand never complained about his limited role with the Sixers, because he knew he wasn’t there to put up 20 and 10. He came to the franchise to help a group of players survive the absolute darkest days of “The Process,” a full-on tanking job designed to acquire draft choices and ultimately the pieces necessary to compete for a title. As that season rolled on, Brand understood that his future was no longer in uniform.

After the previous season, Mike Budenholzer, then-president of basketball operations for the Hawks, offered Brand an assistant GM job. Brand turned him down, saying instead that he wanted a “last hurrah.” He got that with the Sixers, along with a strong argument that it was time to move on.

“I was trying to play, but I figured out that I didn’t have it anymore,” Brand says. “I realized I could work basketball instead of play basketball.” 

In the ensuing three years, Brand moved from GM of the Sixers’ G League team, the Delaware 87ers (now Blue Coats), to his current position running the big team’s hoop operations. It has been a quick rise, but Brand’s work as an elder statesman as a player, coupled with his apprenticeship in the minors, prepared him well.

With the ’19-20 season underway, Brand has the Sixers in an enviable position (5-0), one that is galaxies away from the 10-win catastrophe during his final season as a player. This offseason, the Sixers re-signed Ben Simmons to a five-year, $170 million deal, tied up free agent Tobias Harris for five years and $180 mil, stole Al Horford away from Boston for four years and another $109 large and dished Jimmy Butler to Miami for shooting guard Josh Richardson. Those four have combined with Joel Embiid in a fearsome starting unit that makes the Sixers one of the top choices to win the East and a trendy favorite to take the whole thing. Brand, who had the good luck to bring his game to the NBA at a time when low-post ball was still in vogue, is now fortunate to have joined the Sixers at a time when they are ascendant again. And, thanks to his efforts, that upward arc could well continue this season.         

“We are always looking to get better and improve the team,” Brand says after a frantic-at-times, exhilarating offseason. “I’m happy with the way we have grown, and I’m looking forward to the outcome.”

After one season as a consultant to the Sixers, another as GM of the 87ers, Brand became the NBA franchise’s general manager last September. That means he was part of the deal that brought Butler to town and hugely involved in the most recent offseason. He worked closely with Brett Brown, who was named interim president of basketball operations for the team in the wake of the surreal burner-phone scandal that led to the removal of Bryan Colangelo. With each new day, Brand is more comfortable in his role, despite his relative youth (he’s 40) and only three years of experience in management.

“Being GM [of the 87ers] meant I had to do everything,” Brand says. “We had a smaller staff and a smaller group responsible for determining the roster. We had to run the draft, make our own trades, interview staff members, hire coaches–everything you do on the NBA level. There were just less eyes and less pressure. You still want to win, but your goal is to develop players. It prepared me.”

There have been some crazy NBA offseasons in recent memory, but this past summer may have been the wildest ever. Players formed alliances. The futures of entire teams were altered, some drastically. Superstars relocated. Money flowed freely. It may seem strange to say this, but the NBA Finals appeared to be a mere appetizer to the main course: July’s free agency bonanza.

And the Sixers were hardly bit players in the production. While many fans focused on the drama out west, Brand and his team were highly active. Re-signing Harris was big. Gaining a strong piece (Richardson) for a player who was looking to leave town (Butler) was inspired. And grabbing Horford off the FA shelf generated big headlines and was made even more delectable by the fact that he was leaving the Celtics, Philly’s historic rival.    

While fans thrilled to the activity, and of course, the final project, Brand admits that things weren’t always so much fun in the team’s bunker, from the minute the Sixers lost to Toronto in the Eastern Semis until the final signature was secured on a contract.

“There was immense pressure,” he says. “We want to provide the fan base with a championship-level team, and we wanted to get the roster right for the other players on the team. We had Joel Embiid and Ben Simmons, and we didn’t want to waste their time on the team.

“The draft was a lot of pressure, too. We were trying to get some vets, but we also wanted to get minimum [salary] guys who want to be here. We want to win a championship.”

The Sixers came close to that goal last year before losing to the Toronto Raptors when Kawhi Leonard hit a fall-away buzzer beater in Game 7. It was a blow made even more difficult to handle by the fact that the Raptors went on to win it all over Golden State. Sixers fans were left wondering if their team would have accomplished the same feat had they prevailed in Toronto and gone on to subdue the Bucks in the Conference Finals.             

Brand doesn’t look at last year as a missed opportunity. Instead, he thinks of it as another step in the pursuit of the Sixers’ ultimate goal. From the moment Leonard’s shot settled in the net, the GM looked at 2019-20 and everything that had to be accomplished to take another step forward. That wasn’t easy, but it was absolutely necessary.

“[The pain of the loss] didn’t wear off, but I knew we had to get to work,” Brand says. “We had exit meetings the next day, and we spoke about what we had to work on to get better. We didn’t want that feeling anymore. It was raw. I wanted to talk to the players when it was still raw.”           

The offseason was highly productive for Brand and the Sixers. Even though they didn’t keep Butler in the family, there was a strong sense around the League he and Harris wouldn’t both re-sign. And although Butler had a particularly strong season and was a late-game hero, keeping Harris and adding Richardson and Horford has made the Sixers stronger by most accounts.

As the Sixers participated in the free-for-all that was free agency, Brand kept the vast majority of his focus on building his team. But he couldn’t help thinking about how the League continues to change and grow and how the chaos of July is an entertaining spectacle.

“It is a phenomenon around the world,” Brand says. “There is a mainstream cult following from all angles. I like where we are going and where we are. I’m glad we’re trending in the right direction.”

That’s Brand the GM and member of management speaking. But Brand the player is still not too far removed. He believes the fact that his career ended only three years ago can help him relate to members of the Sixers and other talent around the NBA–even though it’s often his job to decide whether they stay or go. Before he was a GM, he was able to counsel teammates on the realities of the League. They could, and most likely would, be traded. They had to keep working on their games. Because of that, he thinks he can make them understand that he will “play fair” with them. Of course, having agents in the mix can make things a bit complicated, but Brand is committed to getting the right people to join the Sixers organization.  

During his three-year management stint, Brand has learned more about leadership and how he wants to help everyone with whom he works, be they players or staff, live their best lives. 

“Everybody wants to grow and has aspirations,” he says.     

And Brand understands that he would have some developing to do if he were applying for work in the NBA right now. “I wouldn’t be the first pick in the Draft [as he was in 1999 after two years at Duke] if I had the same game I had then,” he says. “I would have had to adapt.”

But Brand certainly doesn’t sound like a grumpy old-timer. In fact, he is a big fan of the current NBA style, even if there aren’t many opportunities for big men who live in the lane.       

“The NBA changed 20 years ago when I entered it and 35 years ago when I became a fan,” he says. “I like it. Aesthetically, it looks great. It’s a different game. There used to be more post play and elbows to the face. Now, you see spacing and athleticism and freedom of movement. I like it.                   

Some of the off-court freedom of movement has positioned the Sixers at the top of the East, with a chance to make a real run at the championship in what looks like the most wide-open NBA in a long time. As he changes his perspective on his basketball life and embraces the pressure of trying to build a big winner, Brand enters 2019-20 with enthusiasm.    

“People are excited,” he says. “The sports books, the experts, and the analysts are. They all feel we are up with the best in the NBA.”   

And Elton Brand is more than happy to be a part of it.

—

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Michael Bradley is a Senior Writer at SLAM. Follow him on Twitter @DailyHombre.

Photos via Getty.

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Green is the defining color on the women’s side, too, where Oregon and all-world standout Sabrina Ionescu look primed to hang their first-ever championship banner.

MEN’S TOP 10

1. MICHIGAN STATE

If point guard Cassius Winston isn’t the best player in the nation, the other guy is otherworldly. Winston leads an experienced MSU team that also features Joshua Langford and Xavier Tillman. And you know Tom Izzo’s squad will play great defense every night (or hear about it at high volume).

2. KANSAS

It was a busy offseason for the Jayhawks, but the hard work certainly paid off. The NCAA cleared big man Silvio de Sousa to play. Isaiah Moss transferred in from Iowa. Udoka Azubuike and Devon Dotson decided against heading to the NBA. It will take a while, but this will be a dangerous team.

3. KENTUCKY

Yeah, the five-stars (Tyrese Maxey, Kahlil Whitney) are coming to Lexington, but so is Bucknell transfer Nate Sestina. And Ashton Hagans is a first-rate point guard who’s returning. There are other holdovers, too, which means Johnny Cal won’t have to start from the jump this year.

4. LOUISVILLE

There are quick turnarounds, and then there’s Louisville. The program was a giant wreck when Chris Mack took over. One great recruiting class later, and the arrival of St. Joe’s transfer Fresh Kimble, and the Cards could well win the ACC and reach the Final Four. Now that’s fast.

5. DUKE

There’s not much new at Cameron Indoor Stadium in Durham, where Coach K welcomes another batch of freshmen prodigies to launch his annual assault on the ACC. But this year is a little different, because talented sophomore PG Tre Jones is back to help Vernon Carey Jr, Wendell Moore, Cassius Stanley and Matthew Hurt get comfortable, and Zion Williamson isn’t around.

6. FLORIDA

The biggest news in Gainesville came during the summer when former Virginia Tech big man Kerry Blackshear Jr joined the band. He gives the Gators some needed inside pop, while skilled guard Andrew Nembhard leads the perimeter attack, and newcomers Scottie Lewis and Tre Mann fill in everywhere else.

7. MARYLAND

This is the season Terps fans have been waiting for. There is talent all over the roster, beginning with PG Anthony Cowan but also including forward Jalen Smith. The freshman class includes a bunch of big men, and sophomore wing Aaron Wiggins has serious potential.

8. GONZAGA

Here’s the definition of a perennial powerhouse: lose three players early to the NBA and still grab a top 10 rating. The Zags added grad transfers Admon Gilder and Ryan Woolridge for the backcourt and expect Corey Kispert to blossom up front. A bunch of four-star newcomers, led by center Drew Timme, will help.

9. NORTH CAROLINA

What do you do when the top five players from your team leave? You get creative. Ol’ Roy Williams grabbed a couple of grad transfers (William & Mary’s Justin Pierce and Charleston Southern’s Christian Keeling) and a five-star late signee (guard Cole Anthony) to blend with holdovers in a potent concoction.

10. VILLANOVA

The Wildcats have the titles (2016 and 2018), and now they have the recruiting pop, thanks to a great class that includes guard Bryan Antoine (who may redshirt following shoulder surgery) and forward Jeremiah Robinson-Earl. They’ll work well with returning stalwarts Collin Gillespie, Saddiq Bey and Jermaine Samuels to keep ’Nova elite.

WOMEN’S TOP 10

1. OREGON

Come for Sabrina Ionescu and stay for the rest of the formidable Ducks, who made their first Final Four appearance last year. Ionescu is the nation’s best player, and she’ll get help from frontcourters Ruthy Hebard and Satou Sabally, along with sharpshooter Erin Boley, on the quest to win it all. 

2. BAYLOR

The Lady Bears will mount a national title defense with plenty of ammunition, particularly if Lauren Cox is back in time for the start of the season. Guards DiDi Richards and Juicy Landrum are terrors at both ends, and forward NaLyssa Smith should step up.

3. CONNECTICUT

By this time next year, the Huskies will have a new/old home: the Big East. For now, UConn will scoff at predictions of a drop-off and return to the Final Four for the 97th straight year, or something like that. Crystal Dangerfield and Megan Walker will lead the way. 

4. SOUTH CAROLINA

They don’t often do one-and-done in women’s ball, and that’s a good thing for Gamecock fans, who’ll get to enjoy a dynamite recruiting class for a few seasons. There’s a lot of young talent on the roster–hello, Aliyah Boston and Zia Cooke–and Dawn Staley is the perfect coach to bring it together.

5. TEXAS A&M

Just about everybody is back in College Station, especially high-scoring guard Chennedy Carter, the nation’s runner-up in points. The Aggies haven’t made it to the Final Four since they won it all in 2011, but this loaded team looks ready to end that drought.

6. MARYLAND

All the Terps did was add the nation’s top high school point guard (Ashley Owusu) to a lineup that includes high-scoring Kaila Charles, sharpshooter Taylor Mikesell and 6-5 Shakira Austin. The Big Ten is officially on notice. The rest of you are playing for second place. 

7. STANFORD

From 2008-14, the Cardinals made six Final Four appearances. It might be time for another. No. 1 overall recruit Haley Jones joins guards Kiana Williams and DiJonai Carrington in a potent lineup that should be strong enough to challenge Oregon for the top spot in the Pac-12.

8. SYRACUSE

While ’Cuse fans will certainly miss Tiana Mangakahia, who’s taking the season off as she gets treatment for cancer, the Orange doesn’t need to fear. Digna Strautmane and a bunch of experienced returnees are around. This squad could be your ACC champs…and more.

9. OREGON STATE

OSU fans will spend the season clamoring for 6-9 redshirt freshman Andrea Aquino, and why not? But the key to the Beaver’s success—beyond a redwood-style front line that also includes 6-7 Patricia Morris—is the backcourt, which is led by junior point guard Destiny Slocum and has depth and versatility. 

10. MISSISSIPPI STATE

On paper, it looks like the Bulldogs are in trouble because of some critical losses, but Vic Schaefer has a lot of talent ready to embrace larger roles, like Andra Espinoza-Hunter and Promise Taylor, who defected to Starkville from Mississippi. The youngsters need to step up, but they can handle the responsibility.

—

GRAB YOUR COPY OF SLAM 224

Michael Bradley is a Senior Writer at SLAM. Follow him on Twitter @DailyHombre.

Photos by Ashley Walters and via Getty.

The post 2019-20 NCAA Men’s and Women’s Preview 🏆 appeared first on SLAM.

100-51 
50-11
No. 10: Larry Bird
No. 9 Tim Duncan
No. 8: Wilt Chamberlain
No. 7: Bill Russell
No. 6: Shaquille O’Neal
No. 5: Kobe Bryant
No. 3: Magic Johnson
No. 2: LeBron James
No. 1: Michael Jordan

Order your copy of the SLAM TOP 100 issue at our store. 

—

The basketball world outside of New York City knew little of Lew Alcindor in December 1966, when he prepared to make his UCLA debut against USC. There had been occasional dispatches the previous season about a 7-2 freshman who was tearing up the varsity in scrimmages, back before first-year players were allowed to play with the big team. Try to imagine some 18-year-old from Oregon State who had to face Alcindor in a freshman game. He probably went back to his dormitory afterward and wept. So when the soph center poured in 56 in his collegiate debut, a sense of hysteria overtook the Bruin program. (Plus, UCLA had already won two of the previous three national titles.) If ESPN had been around back then, it probably would have commissioned a 30 for 30 immediately.

Alcindor went on to become the greatest college player of all time, helping the Bruins to an 88-2 record over three years and a trio of national titles. He was also responsible for the NCAA’s outlawing of the dunk from ’67-76, a ridiculous ruling that somehow would help Stanford stop Alcindor from scoring 40 on it.

The NBA had never seen anything like him. Many fans just remember Abdul-Jabbar—he converted to Islam in 1968 and started using his Arabic name in ’71—as the guy who later in his career would set up on the block and dribble and shift until he could launch his deadly sky hook. But when he hit the League in 1969, he was an extraordinary basketball specimen, a big man with uncommon speed, athletic ability and skill. He played with supreme confidence, even as a rookie, and demonstrated early that he not only understood the game from a big man’s perspective but also from a larger global view.

Milwaukee won just 27 games in its first NBA season, earning it the right to draft Abdul-Jabbar. Two seasons later, KAJ led the team to the world championship. That year, he won the first of his six MVP awards and led the League with 34.8 ppg while pulling down 16.6 rebounds a night. He was an unstoppable presence who used his size to dominate from above those smaller and his speed and quickness to embarrass the big fellas. Today’s NBA fans marvel at players like Giannis Antetokounmpo; well, they should watch some footage of a young Abdul-Jabbar to see similar skill and athletic grace nearly 50 years ago.

Unhappy with the city of Milwaukee and missing his friends and family on the West Coast, Abdul-Jabbar told Bucks management in 1974 that he wanted to be traded. His final season in Wisconsin featured a losing record—Abdul-Jabbar missed 16 games due to a broken hand—and the Bucks’ trading him to L.A. is generally looked at as one of the worst trades ever, when, in reality, the Bucks ended up with two players—Brian Winters and Junior Bridgeman—whose numbers were retired by the team. And they had to do it. The Lakers welcomed Abdul-Jabbar, but his first few years in L.A. weren’t idyllic, even though he won the MVP award during his first with the team. Sure, he scored a lot of points, but Abdul-Jabbar was, at times, accused of loafing and not caring. His proud, introspective personality was misread as aloof. While Portland and Seattle rose in the West, the Lakers struggled.

Then came Magic Johnson, and everything changed. Abdul-Jabbar was the MVP again in 1979-80, reborn thanks to the enthusiasm and charisma of his rookie teammate. The Lakers would win five titles between 1980-88, and even as Abdul-Jabbar’s totals sagged, his influence on the team and ability to provide a low-post anchor were huge reasons for the team’s success.

In the 1985 Finals against the Celtics, L.A. lost Game 1, 148-114, in what came to be known as “The Memorial Day Massacre.” Three days later, the Lakers rebounded with a 109-102 victory fueled by Abdul-Jabbar’s 30 points, 17 rebounds, 8 assists and 3 blocks. Los Angeles won in six games, and Abdul-Jabbar was the Finals MVP.

Sure, his last couple of years weren’t overwhelming. But when he bid farewell to the NBA after 20 seasons, 19 All-Star Game appearances and more points than anybody who ever played pro ball—before or since—no one even remembered how many points or boards Abdul-Jabbar averaged at the end. They merely marveled at a player whose career was an overwhelming argument for his groundbreaking talent and remarkable endurance.

When the whispers started back in the mid-1960s, nobody really knew what was coming. Nearly 25 years later, we had all seen. And we were amazed.

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100-51 
50-11
No. 10: Larry Bird
No. 9 Tim Duncan
No. 7: Bill Russell
No. 6: Shaquille O’Neal
No. 5: Kobe Bryant
No. 4: Kareem Abdul-Jabbar
No. 3: Magic Johnson
No. 2: LeBron James
No. 1: Michael Jordan

Order your copy of the SLAM TOP 100 issue at our store. 

—

Wilt Chamberlain. His one name says enough. Says it all, actually. Wilt. Before LeBron and Magic and Prince, there was Wilton Norman Chamberlain, the biggest, baddest man on the court—and just about anywhere else. There had been big men in the game before, like George Mikan and Bob Kurland, but when Wilt came to the NBA, even Bill Russell didn’t know what to do with him. In 94 regular season games against his Boston rival, Wilt averaged 29.9 ppg and 28.2 rpg.

He overpowered everybody else, too. In 14 NBA seasons, Wilt averaged 30.1 ppg and 22.9 rpg. When he decided to become more of a passer, he averaged 7.8 apg in ’66-67 and 8.6 the following season. When Wilt played on a team where he didn’t have to score, he set a single season field-goal accuracy rate (72.7 percent) that still stands.

In short, there was nothing Wilt couldn’t do on the court. And he was just as formidable off it. In high school, he was a track star. He cut a couple of pop records in the early ’60s. He almost signed a contract to box Muhammad Ali. No one was going to tell the 7-1, 275-pound Leviathan that he couldn’t do something, mostly because he could probably accomplish it. And, anyway, did you want to be the one to deliver the message?

Wilt used to say that “nobody roots for Goliath” and that may be right. So, Wilt became his own biggest fan. He celebrated his stratospheric statistics that were so prodigious they almost didn’t seem real. One-hundred points in a game? Preposterous. Unless you were one of the 100,000 people who said they were in Hershey, PA, on March 2, 1962, when Wilt hit triple figures against the Knicks. That season, he averaged 50.4 ppg, a record that will never be broken. Even his faults were giant-sized. Wilt didn’t just shoot free throws poorly—he was epically bad from the line, making just 51.1 percent for his career despite trying every possible way of shooting foul shots.

Wilt was supposed to win every game, every championship. When he didn’t, they ripped him. He was selfish. Not a winner. But Russell had all of those Hall of Famers, and Red Auerbach directing the show. Sometimes, Wilt just had himself, and that was almost enough. He won two titles. He scored more than anyone else. He even, well, did more of that, too. Wilt was the giant’s giant, so everybody expected outsized results every time he stepped onto the court. Such is Goliath’s curse.

It is now in vogue to denigrate Wilt’s accomplishments. To consider him a selfish giant who couldn’t deliver enough titles. It’s ludicrous, really. Wilt did what nobody else could. He controlled the game with impunity and rendered those charged with containing him helpless.

After he retired, Wilt’s outgoing message on his answering machine was simple: “Speak!” It was delivered in his trademark baritone, and it challenged the caller to be direct and strong and unafraid, all things he was. So, we speak: Wilt was the best.

Photos via Getty Images.

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—

Darrell Griffith hasn’t played ball since 1996—16 years after he led Louisville to its first-ever title. The springs that lifted the man named Dr. Dunkenstein into the air have lost their bounce. And though his playing days are over, Griffith remains in top shape and is still working hard in the service of his hometown school.

“I’m still at the weight I played at professionally,” Griffith says. “One of my goals when I retired was to stay in good physical shape. God made me a world-class athlete, and I have to take advantage of that. I want to sweat. I like that.”

The Cardinals’ 1980 National Championship team was one of the most colorful, exciting and talented in NCAA history, with Griffith the star attraction, a 6-4 human pogo stick whose aerial acrobatics helped make U of L the nation’s must-see team.

Griffith grew up in Louisville and was the nation’s top prep player while at Louisville Male HS (KY). Everybody wanted him, but he narrowed his options to Michigan and the Cardinals. Oh, and he could have turned professional, too. Both the NBA and the ABA’s Kentucky Colonels were ready to make him a part of their roster, and Griffith considered the offers carefully. “My dad reconsidered for me,” Griffith says with a laugh. “He put it all in perspective. Going to college was the right move.”

When Griffith held his press conference announcing he would stay home to play for the Cards, he channeled Louisville native Muhammad Ali by promising a title. As he entered his senior year without a championship, Griffith was aware that his guarantee and his rep were in jeopardy.

The Cardinals overcame a late-season slip-up against Jim Valvano’s Iona squad at MSG to win it all, but it wasn’t easy. Louisville needed OT to capture its first two tourney games and trailed Larry Brown’s UCLA team at halftime of the finale, before Griffith told his team during intermission to loosen up and play with the same fun and abandon that characterized their first 35 games. He sure did, finishing with a game-high 23 points in Louisville’s 59-54 victory.

Instead of riding back on the team bus, Griffith made the trip with his brother, Michael, because he wanted to drive through town and see fans celebrating in the streets where he had played pickup during his youth. Today, in his capacity as Director of Community Relations for his alma mater, Griffith encounters people all the time who want to reminisce about that team. He never fails to oblige.

“My job is a great opportunity to connect and be with the people who saw me play,” he says. “Everybody’s experience is different, and I always enjoy their perspectives, what they remember, what they were doing and what it meant to them.”

His playing career as a Cardinal still means a lot to Griffith, more than his 11 years with the Utah Jazz did. He “never left Louisville” and would return to the city during every NBA offseason. In 1990, as his pro career was winding down, he and members of the ’80 title team took apart Louisville’s 1986 championship squad in a charity game at Freedom Hall. He still cherishes the opportunities to spend time with former Louisville coach Denny Crum, and the two men talk basketball all the time.

Griffith averaged 16.2 ppg during his NBA career and topped 20 a game for a season four different times. When he arrived in Salt Lake City, the Jazz were coming off a 24-win season. In Griffith’s fourth year, Utah won the Midwest Division title. Griffith laments that he didn’t land in a major market but does say Utah fans “were good to me.” He enjoyed playing for fast-and-loose Frank Layden at the beginning of his career and had the chance to watch John Stockton and Karl Malone blossom under Jerry Sloan. “[Sloan] was totally different than Frank,” Griffith says. “He was a great coach with a great basketball mind. He was awesome to play for.”

A classic car enthusiast who enjoys keeping track of his four children and six grandchildren, Griffith continues his outreach on behalf of his alma mater in the city he loves, marvels at the details fans recall about the title run and delights in sharing his passion for Louisville. The man who made good on his guarantee is enjoying his post-basketball career and is happy to be home. When asked why he stayed in town to play college ball, he has a simple explanation. “My hometown won me over,” he says.

Years later, the love affair continues.

—

Michael Bradley is a Senior Writer at SLAM. Follow him on Twitter @DailyHombre.

Photos via Getty Images

The post The Doc Is In appeared first on SLAM.

—

Not long ago, Bob Love stepped onto an elevator within Chicago’s United Center and confronted a family. Genial and outgoing, which one would expect a team’s Ambassador to be, Love began a conversation.

One of the older members remembered Love from his days as a high-scoring forward for the Bulls, a three-time All-Star and postseason standout whose number was retired by the team. A younger person had seen Love speak at a nearby school, an achievement perhaps even more impressive than the former player’s on-court work, given that Love once suffered from an awful stutter that made it so hard for him to speak that teammates had to relay his thoughts and opinions during timeout huddles.

A man so capable of expressing himself on the court couldn’t say a sentence off of it without staggering and stammering to utter frustration and humiliation. Years later, he was smiling with the family, having overcome his difficulties to become a cherished representative of the franchise for which he had his best moments as a player.

“It’s such a great story,” says Tony Rokita, the Bulls’ Director of Community Relations and Player Programs. “Bob’s perseverance and what he overcame are remarkable.”

You want to talk Chicago Bulls? The conversation begins and ends with one man. It’s Michael Jordan’s franchise. He won the six titles. He grabbed the title of GOAT. Bulls red is MJ red. Everybody else is just part of history’s supporting cast, pushed out of the spotlight by his singular greatness.

For some, the 1970s Bulls were just the disappointing appetizer to the feast Jordan provided for Chicago fans throughout the ’80s and ’90s. They won some. They came close. But they never reached the top. Wilt got them twice. Kareem did it once. And in 1975, when they came so close, the lack of a bench did them in. Also-rans. Second-best. Footnotes in the story that reached its climax when the tongue-wagging guard from Carolina came to town.

And that’s a damn shame. Those Bulls had talent. They had a visionary, albeit totalitarian, coach—Dick Motta. They played exciting basketball. And they had Love, the smooth, 6-8 forward. He was a three-time All-Star who averaged 21.3 ppg during his seven-plus seasons with the team. Love was a workhorse and a great teammate. He could score on just about anybody, and he hit the boards with gusto. His battles with the game’s best forwards—Rick Barry, Spencer Haywood, Connie Hawkins—were must-see basketball action. Come playoff time, he was even better. And tougher. In five post-seasons from 1970-75, the fewest minutes Love averaged per game were 43.3. In ’70-71, he played 47.1 mpg in a seven-game series against the Lakers.

“I loved playing with Love, because he was constant motion,” former Chicago guard Bob Weiss told Bulls.com. “I was always finding him for layups.”

Love’s basketball journey was successful, and though it ended too often in playoff disappointment, it established him as one of the League’s better frontcourt players for a seven-year stretch that coincided with the Bulls’ first taste of prosperity. Love “worked hard to get open,” the late Norm Van Lier, a former Chicago guard, said in a 2002 New York Times article. Love played a vital role on the 1974-75 team that battled its way to the Western Conference Finals, where Chicago eventually fell to Golden State.

That series went seven games, with Chicago dropping an excruciating 83-79 loss in the decider. Love played the entire game, scored 17 points and pulled down 7 boards. The Warriors’ reserves outscored Chicago’s bench 26-3 and held a 24-14 fourth-quarter advantage. After the game, Love was angry. “I am not a horse,” he told the Chicago Tribune. “I can’t go out every night and play 48 minutes.”

Love spent one more full season with the Bulls before ending his career in 1977. One would have expected him to settle into retirement as a local icon. Instead, he spent several years working menial jobs and almost going broke. Eventually, he found a speech therapist who unlocked his words, and they began to flow. In 1992, the Bulls hired him as Director of Community Affairs. He speaks to fans, to corporate sponsors and at schools. He appears at fundraisers, community events and games. For years, Bob Love couldn’t speak a sentence without feeling embarrassed. When he re-joined the Bulls, he was a confident, stirring speaker.

“He loves to be in front of people,” Rokita says. “He loves interacting with people and draws strength from fans.”

When Love hears about a young person struggling with stuttering, he makes sure to tell him or her about how he couldn’t even ask for the ball in huddles or get a good job after he retired. His message is the same: Persevere, and you will overcome.

“He’s happy to share his story,” Rokita says. “Kids going through similar circumstances identify with him. He shares his story, because he remembers what it was like.

“When you look at everything he has accomplished, it’s inspiring.”

—

Michael Bradley is a Senior Writer at SLAM. Follow him on Twitter @DailyHombre.

Photos via AP

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For the first seven years of the league’s existence, Providence finished either last or next to last, a slap to the face of former Friars coach Dave Gavitt, one of the Big East’s founding fathers who at the time served as league commissioner. If it hadn’t been for Seton Hall’s even greater futility at that time, Providence would have been the conference’s biggest charity case.

In 1985, a fast-talking New Yorker who had won 64 percent of his games over five years at Boston University and had spent the previous two as an assistant with the Knicks took over. At his introduction, Rick Pitino told everybody to forget investing in the stock market; Providence basketball tickets would provide a much better return. People laughed at that, and Providence Journal writer Bill Reynolds ripped him. “I told Bill in 1987 that if he bought eight season tickets, he would have gotten rich selling them,” Pitino says, laughing.

At his first team meeting, two players showed up 30 minutes late, according to Donovan, and Pitino made them run five miles six days in a row at 5 a.m. (30 minutes = 30 miles). He was hardly impressed with his roster, which included 10 guys “who were not any good,” Pitino once said. The 5-11 Donovan, at a robust 191 pounds, was one of them. Donovan wanted out, and Pitino was happy to accommodate him. One problem: Northeastern and Fairfield, Donovan’s two preferred destinations, didn’t want him. So, Pitino told the guard to lose 30 pounds and come back ready to run and press for 40 minutes.

“He told me, ‘If you do everything I ask, you will have the greatest year of your life,’” Donovan says.

The first year was great. Providence finished fifth in the Big East, won 17 games and made it to the NIT quarterfinals. The next season was even better. The Friars reached the Final Four, and their jaws were agape at 20,000 people watching layup lines. “It was a crazy setting,” Donovan says.

Nobody worked harder than the Friars, who practiced three times a day before the NCAA instituted its 20-hour rule limiting activity. Nobody ran like them: playing 94 feet every second of the game. And nobody shot like them: After experimenting with the three-point shot for a few seasons, the NCAA made it universal in ’86, and thanks to Pitino’s experience with the Knicks, he understood its importance and how to exploit it. In a conference known more for bloody noses than rainbow jumpers, Providence’s long-range assault was unheard of.

“We used the three-pointer to our advantage,” says Carlton Screen, a freshman guard on the team. “Our goal was to take more threes than the other team. We also wanted to defend the three-point shot better than anybody. We did both very well.”

* * *

Pitino wanted the Friars to jack up three-pointers in ’86-87, but it wasn’t until Providence took on the Soviet Union in an exhibition before the season that the coach realized even he had underestimated how often the team should launch threes. The Soviets had finished second to the US at the ’86 World Championships and were aficionados of the trey ball.

“We felt like if we took 12-15 threes a game and made five, we would lead the nation,” Pitino says. “That night, I think we took 18, and the Russians took 30. I realized my projections were too low. We changed our estimates to 23 to 25 a game.”

While the Friars were working to increase their output from beyond the arc, the rest of the Big East was approaching the area behind the line as if it were a moat filled with crocodiles. Coaches like Syracuse’s Jim Boeheim, Villanova’s Rollie Massimino and St. John’s Lou Carnesecca regarded the three-pointer as blasphemy. For the season, Providence averaged 19.5 3PA per game, which was more than the Orangemen, Wildcats and Red Storm combined (19.1). And since PC made 42.1 percent of its shots from deep, it was getting tremendous return on its long-distance service.

The approach was pretty basic. Donovan would either launch from beyond the top of the key off a screen when a defender was too lax, or he would penetrate and kick to either Delray Brooks or Ernie “Pop” Lewis on the wing. Donovan and Lewis took more than 220 threes apiece that season, and Brooks put up 157. Each shot above 40 percent behind the arc.

“We were a whole bunch of guys who hadn’t played much before Rick got there, and we were just thrown into the river,” says Jacek Duda, a center on the team. “Rick made everybody believe in themselves, and after that Soviet Union game, we just shot more from behind the arc. It was great.”

Donovan made the transformation from a chubby reserve into “Billy the Kid” and Pitino was quick to outfit him in a cowboy hat and boots for the ’86-87 media guide. Even more impressive was Brooks’ metamorphosis from a beaten-down former prep phenom into a key piece of a Final Four team.

Brooks was such a heralded prep player that Indiana’s Bob Knight invited him to the 1984 Olympic trials. But when the ’84 USA Today POY reached Bloomington, he struggled in Knight’s structured setting and didn’t respond well—as many did not—to Knight’s abuse and constant haranguing. He transferred from IU to Providence halfway through the ’85-86 season, and Pitino set about the business of building his confidence.

“When you play for Bob Knight, you can either be broken down or fall in line,” Pitino says. “He came to me a beaten guy, and I had to get his confidence going. It worked out great.”

When Pitino took over, the Friars were a casual bunch who enjoyed hanging out and weren’t pushed too hard in practice by kindly coach Joe Mullaney. But early on, the Friars learned that while they were good-time buddies, they weren’t all that close. Pitino challenged them to learn more about each other, the better to build a tight link on the court. He supplemented that bonding with a grueling practice schedule that included three workouts a day, along with late-night two-on-two games involving the coach. “During our first meeting, Coach Pitino told us we would be the hardest working team in America,” Screen says.

During Pitino’s two seasons at Providence, he stressed basketball and academics; that was it. Graduate assistant Jeff Van Gundy was in charge of making sure the players attended class. “If you were one minute late, you ran at 5 the next morning,” Screen says. There was individual instruction, walk-throughs, film study and three-hour afternoon workouts. At night, Pitino and Lewis would challenge Donovan and Brooks. “I was in pretty good shape then,” Pitino says. “The games were pretty even.”

Fueled by hours of prep and ready to shoot the three-pointer at all times, the Friars went at the Big East bullies and thrived. Providence finished 10-6 in league play, its best-ever conference mark. When Georgetown visited, the Friars earned a win with late triples by Brooks and Lewis, and Pitino almost got in a fight with Hoyas coach—and PC graduate—John Thompson. Thompson was shouting at Pitino, and Pitino wouldn’t back down. They had to be separated at midcourt.

“I was standing there, looking at his navel, ready to fight him,” Pitino says, laughing at the image. “After the game, he put his arm around me and said, ‘I’m proud of what you’re doing with my alma mater, but when you come to Georgetown, we’re going to kick your ass.’”

Georgetown did rough up the Friars in DC. And the Hoyas handed Providence an 84-66 defeat in the Big East semis. But the Friars were headed to the tourney for the first time in nine years, and that was big. Providence rolled past UAB in the first round, 90-68, behind 35 points and 12 dimes from Donovan. But things weren’t so easy in the second round against Austin Peay. In fact, it took some good fortune for the Friars to survive, but they did, barely, winning 90-87.

Next was a talented Alabama team, but Donovan’s 26 and Brooks’ 23 propelled a 103-82 rout and set up a regional final with…Georgetown. After the Big East tourney loss, Pitino assured the Friars they wouldn’t have to see the Hoyas again. Now, he was saying Thompson’s team was an easy mark.

“I told them they were the luckiest bunch of guys I had seen,” Pitino says. “I said, You don’t realize it, but there is only one team that isn’t afraid of you. They’re going to take you so lightly that it will be a cakewalk to the Final Four.”

And it was. Georgetown pushed its defense out to the three-point line, so the Friars went inside. Providence attempted only nine treys—12 fewer than the Hoyas—and Donovan and Brooks drove and fed the big guys. Donovan scored 20, but so did forward Darryl Wright. Big man Steve Wright had 12, and forward Dave Kipfer added 11 in a surprisingly easy 86-73 win.

“Before the game, [Pitino] told Delray and I that we couldn’t shoot the ball,” says Donovan, who attempted only five shots but was 16-18 from the line. Brooks took two shots. “He said he wanted us to pass the ball.”

If there was one team the Friars didn’t want to see in New Orleans, it was Syracuse. The Orange had three future pros: guard Sherman Douglas, forward Derrick Coleman and center Rony Seikaly. “They had our number,” Pitino says. Cuse gained a 36-26 halftime lead and held Providence to 36 percent shooting (26 percent behind the line) in a 77-63 win. The magic ended.

But the memories remain rich. “We defied a lot of logic,” Donovan says.

Duda still marvels at the turnaround keyed by a coach whom players thought was “completely crazy.” And Screen simply calls it “an unbelievable ride.” Pitino has won two national titles and countless games since, but considers that ’86-87 season perhaps the most important of his career.

“I’m in my 42nd year of coaching, and because of that Cinderella team, I believed for the rest of my coaching career that anything was possible,” he says. “Any comeback is possible, and any team can accomplish great things. Providence kept that alive for me.”

—

Photos courtesy of Providence College Media Relations

The post Outside the Lines appeared first on SLAM.

He knew he belonged in the NBA, so playing in a mid-tier league in Europe wasn’t exactly his idea of the big time. Bowen wasn’t coachable. He felt he was better than everybody else. Instead of learning what he could and embracing the various life experiences that came from living and working in another country, Bowen was surly.

“I had to learn to be a better individual, be a better player,” Bowen says now.

Eventually, Bowen stopped trying to control everything. He realized that making $100,000 per season for 10 years in France, he could rack up a million dollars. That ain’t so bad.

“It wasn’t until I let go that I made it to the NBA,” Bowen says. “I was content in my life.”

Having logged two years in Europe, Bowen sandwiched another season in France between a pair of stints with the Rockford Lightning of the now-defunct CBA. He signed a 10-day contract with the Miami Heat in March of ’97, but wound up playing a grand total of one NBA minute. “I was learning to deal with things that I didn’t have control of,” Bowen says. “It’s a really good lesson, and it helps make us better people.”

Bowen’s odyssey through basketball’s lower reaches would ultimately pay off, though, since today he can look back on a 13-year NBA career that made him a three-time NBA champion and a five-time member of the NBA’s All-Defensive First Team. The Spurs even retired his No. 12 jersey in 2012 (though it’s been temporarily “unretired” for LaMarcus Aldridge). The guy who actually had to apologize to Veyronnet when the Spurs visited Europe one preseason grew into a championship fixture after coming up a grouchy youngster.

During his prime with the Heat and Spurs, Bowen was the NBA’s best wing stopper, capable of guarding all three perimeter positions, thanks to a blend of quickness, toughness and psychological tactics. Bowen was a key part of three San Antonio title teams, and he complemented his nasty D with a sweet three-point stroke that actually led the League in ’03. The kid from Cal State Fullerton, who endured a rough childhood, made it through four years of basketball purgatory to become a full-on NBA standout. There are more remarkable tales in the pro basketball world, but not many.

“You have to take advantage of the opportunities you have,” Bowen says. “I had opportunities, and I chose to listen to others and learn from them. A lot of times, we just want to do our own thing.”

To many, Bowen’s “thing” was defense and, admittedly, any player named to the All-Defensive First or Second Teams for eight straight years is certainly going to be known for shutting down his opponents. But Bowen was so much more.

He’s quick to tell people that in the late ’90s, when he broke in, “the NBA didn’t have one-dimensional players.” Bowen averaged 16.3 ppg at Fullerton. In the NBA, he was a 39.3 percent three-point shooter for his career.

“I couldn’t score like [former NBA players] Isaiah Rider and Lucious Harris, two guys who came into the League when I did, but I could score,” Bowen says. “I knew I could be a defensive guy, but I didn’t want to be taken out of the game in key offensive situations.”

Bowen knew his place in the starting lineup came because of his D. Maybe if his first starting gig hadn’t come in Miami, where Pat Riley had his teams dug in at the defensive end like World War I trench warriors, Bowen might have hung up more points. And perhaps if he hadn’t ended up in San Antonio, where Gregg Popovich already had Timmy, Tony and Manu to score for him, Bowen could have gotten more buckets. But that was his path, and it worked out pretty well for him.

“He was the perfect guy to fit in with San Antonio, personality wise,” says Steve Smith, a current NBA TV analyst who played with Bowen for two seasons with the Spurs and against him for many more. “He was a fantastic guy off the court, and he had a little nastiness on the court. He could guard anybody who played 1, 2 or 3, and if he couldn’t, he was going to let you know he would try.”

* * *

After shootarounds and practices, NBA players have lots of down time. On the road, there’s usually a meal and a nap before the trip to the arena. At home, players might retreat home to their families or relax to let the effects of a workout dissipate. Not Bowen. He took tremendous care of his body—“He was in unbelievable shape,” Smith says—but he usually had something going on beyond the court. Instead of sleeping or relaxing, Bowen might be at a museum or “making a stew,” according to Smith. “He was very well-rounded,” Smith adds. Bowen’s specialty? Oxtail, and he would cook for anybody who was hungry. Smith also grudgingly refers to Bowen as a “pretty good salsa dancer,” thanks to Bowen’s turn on Dancing With The Stars.

But no matter how well he cooks or dances—or shot three-pointers, for that matter—Bowen will forever be remembered for his ability to stop other people from scoring. He never had crazy steal numbers, and his blocked shot totals were extremely modest. What he was, to quote Smith, was an “irritant.” He delighted in disrupting top players’ rhythms. No one can shackle a binge scorer completely, but there’s a difference between a star piling up 35 points with ease, versus a frustrating, 6-17 shooting performance that creates doubt in the gunner’s mind during key moments at the ends of games. Bowen had tremendous quickness for somebody who is 6-7, and he checked almost every superstar from the 2000s you can name, from Jordan and Kobe to Iverson and LeBron.

“I never saw anybody that big move his feet like him,” Smith says. More than anything, though, Bowen wanted to play defense, in large part because he knew that was the role that suited him best on the Spurs. Due to a childhood made difficult by his mother’s struggles with drug addiction, Bowen developed a toughness that helped him square up against the NBA’s best. It also taught him to appreciate anything he had or earned.

“When you want to complain about what’s going on in your world, think about someone else,” Bowen says. “You have to be careful when you say, Woe is me, because someone else is worse off.”

Bowen was the perfect player for Popovich’s system in San Antonio— curious, committed to the whole, willing to sacrifice for his teammates. It was an ideal spot for him, because he came to understand the value of playing for someone like Popovich, whose demanding style was designed to build a strong team and stronger men. Bowen calls Popovich “the MacGyver of coaching” because of his ability to succeed with whatever was at his disposal.

“He’s able to piece things together and get them to work,” Bowen says. Popovich brought perspective to the Spurs beyond the court, whether he was getting them to understand the sacrifices of those in the armed forces, giving them books to read throughout the season or putting them in team building situations designed to build camaraderie. That was the perfect setting for Bowen, who thrived within a team setting meant to create players for whom basketball wasn’t the only thing that mattered.

“There were so many lessons Pop would share that had nothing to do with basketball and everything to do with humanity,” Bowen says. “He wanted us to be aware of what was going on in the country. He would say, ‘You think you’re having a bad day because I got on you in practice or you shot 3-10 in a game, but what about the young men who are sacrificing their lives for your freedom?’

“The thing I miss about Pop is the daily lessons about life he would share.”

Popovich convinced Bowen to play a role that kept him in the League for 13 years, brought him three rings—not to mention plenty of money—and appealed to Bowen’s wider worldview. It wasn’t all basketball with Popovich, just as it isn’t all ball for Bowen.

“Pop taught me to take the high road in certain situations, even when you’ve been wronged,” Bowen says. “Keep moving forward.”

After he retired in 2009, Bowen continued his progress. As a TV analyst for ESPN, he has the ability to relay his perspectives on the game to an audience that might be only looking for highlights but who will end up learning something about the sport’s broader concepts. Just as Bowen had to understand the value of surrendering to things he couldn’t control while he was working his way to the NBA, so too, viewers need to understand that just because a player can score doesn’t make him a great player.

“I enjoy broadcasting,” Bowen says. “I get a chance to educate people on things I know. It’s not arrogant. Because I’ve been through things and been on bad teams and good teams, I feel like I have a special perspective.

“I can go back to the experiences I have had.”

—

Photos via Getty Images

The post Bow Knows appeared first on SLAM.

Then, a son stands up at a celebratory dinner and reaches into the pocket of his coat.

And we know.

* * *

It has happened before. The International Olympic Committee has corrected an error and rewarded the proper winners. Even an organization that bestows gigantic moneymaking opportunities on human rights abusers and totalitarian hacks can do the right thing.

More modern drug-testing methods reveal abuses from the past—although we’re still waiting on verdicts from that steroid-laced froth produced by Soviet Bloc athletes in the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s. Corruption is exposed.   Justice is served.

So, why couldn’t members of the maltreated 1972 US Men’s Basketball Team receive the Gold medals they deserved?

“They’ve given out dual Gold medals before,” says Tom McMillen, a forward on the team and later a US Congressman. “We went to the Russians and said that if they let [the IOC] give us Gold medals, we could somehow monetize it for a Russian charity.

“We got roundly turned down on that one. Maybe something will happen on the 50th anniversary, in 2022.”

Don’t count on it, Tom. Even though the 1972 Olympic basketball debacle remains one of the ugliest stains on the tattered IOC cloak, there is no push, globally, for fairness to prevail. Those who lived through and remember the chaotic ending to the Gold medal game between the US and Soviet teams still can’t describe clearly what happened. A collection of unexplained decisions by referees and an amateur basketball official, combined with a charged political climate to create a surreal stew of confusion that turned American victory into stunning defeat. When Alexander Belov caught a length-of-the-court heave from Ivan Edeshko—the third time the play had been attempted—and laid the ball in, the USSR had won more than just a basketball game. It had handed the Americans their first-ever Olympic loss in the sport they had invented, perfected and dominated.

There was a protest, of course. The Americans lost that by a vote of 3-2. Three Soviet bloc apparatchiks voted according to Party dictates, and two Western judges went for justice. The US lost, and to this day not one member of that team has even thought of accepting his silver medal. Team captain Kenny Davis has it in his will that his wife and children may never receive the tainted prize.

“We felt we didn’t deserve the silver medal,” says former NBA player and coach Doug Collins. “If we had lost, fair and square, we would have taken the medal, shaken [the Soviets’] hands and congratulated them.”

* * *

It was a subdued celebration. About 25 of Collins’ family and friends had gathered at a restaurant in 2009 to commemorate his being awarded the Curt Gowdy Media Award by the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame.

Collins enjoyed the moment, and he was thrilled to have the people who had so enriched his life on hand to share the excitement.

Basketball had remained a huge part of his life. Even after that 2009 Hall of Fame honor, Collins would coach again for three years. And he remained part of the Olympic realm, broadcasting basketball at the Games in 2000, ’04 and ’08. (He would be part of the TV team for the 2012 Olympics and will broadcast the ’16 competition in Rio). His son, Chris, had been part of the US coaching staff in 2008 when Mike Krzyzewski took the reins of the “Redeem Team,” which sought to win Gold again after a debacle in ’04 resulted in bronze.

Though Chris didn’t receive an official Gold medal after the US trampled all comers in 2008, the head of USA Basketball, Jerry Colangelo, awarded him and other staffers replicas as thanks for their hard work.

A Collins had finally received the ultimate Olympic reward.

* * *

On the first day of training camp in a dilapidated submarine base at Pearl Harbor, US coach Hank Iba wrote the number 50 on the blackboard.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

When no one answered, Iba said, “We’re going to play the Russians in the Gold-medal game, and they’re not going to score 50 points.”

The 68-year-old Iba had been something of a compromise candidate. He had led the US team to Gold in 1964 and ’68, but he had since retired from coaching at Oklahoma State. Many thought legendary UCLA coach John Wooden would get the gig. But the Wizard wanted to be courted and practically begged. North Carolina’s Dean Smith was deemed too young. Iba was a defensive specialist who demanded his teams play disciplined, halfcourt basketball. That was just about the opposite of what most college players wanted to do but almost a mirror of the Soviet system, which mandated precision and control to make up for the team’s lack of elite athletic ability.

“Iba was a really old-school coach,” says Mike Bantom, a forward on the team and now Executive VP of Referee Operations for the NBA. “He had a ball control type of system, and I don’t think any of us were used to that. Most of us were used to playing in systems where we ran the ball and played free. This was a very disciplined approach. We had to learn how to play it.”

The lineup charged with translating that system into Gold wasn’t packed with NBA stars but with amateurs, and eight of the 12 players were 20-year-olds, much younger than the Soviets. And it wasn’t even the best of the available crop. UCLA sophomore Bill Walton, the best college player in the country, did not play for a variety of reasons, including his aching knees and an aversion to trying out or practicing. Providence’s Marvin “Bad News” Barnes, a physical, multitalented forward, showed well during tryouts but wasn’t chosen. And UCLA center Swen Nater, who backed up Walton in Westwood, made the team but left after three days of training in Hawaii, reportedly unhappy with the rigorous pace. His departure robbed the US of its top post scorer. “He would have given us a great inside presence,” Collins says.

Not that anybody was particularly worried. The US had a 55-0 record in Olympic competition since the sport’s introduction in the 1936 Games. The Soviets were clearly the main threat and were committed to using sports as a means of propagating their Communist agenda. But they couldn’t match the US talent. Still, it was clearly the Cold War on hardwood.

The US tore through its first seven opponents, boasting an average margin of victory of 32.9 points. They were ready to face Italy in the semifinals, when all of a sudden, basketball didn’t seem to matter so much anymore.

The Palestinian terrorist group Black September kidnapped 11 Israeli athletes and held them hostage, demanding the release of prisoners. “The security was so bad,” Collins says. “Anyone could get in and out of the [Olympic] Village.” Collins remembers walking with teammate Ed Ratleff, a swingman from Long Beach State, and seeing the ski-masked gunmen on the top floor of a building in the residence.

In the lowest moment of the Olympic movement, the terrorists killed the Israelis. ABC anchor Jim McKay’s emotional declaration, “They’re all gone,” still resonates with those who witnessed the tragedy through non-stop TV coverage. The Games were halted for two days while the world mourned the awful events. But the IOC decided to continue, reasoning that the world needed to heal and move on in the face of such barbarism. It also had little desire to refund money to ticketholders or deal with angry sponsors.

The Italians provided little resistance in the semis, falling 68-38. That set up the game everybody wanted to see, a showdown between the veteran Soviets and the young Americans.

“They had been together for five or 10 years and were subsidized by the state,” says McMillen, who joined the US squad after Nater bolted. “We were playing against a bona fide team of seasoned guys. We were thrust together, playing against the Russians, who were very disciplined and talented but mechanical. They really played their style well.”

In a surreal nod to the US television audience, the Gold-medal game didn’t start until 11:45 pm, Munich time. It’s unlikely the late start played much of a role, but the Soviets’ deliberate patterns and disciplined defense certainly did. The US players knew little about their USSR counterparts, particularly guard Sergei Belov, an accurate shooter who helped the Soviets build a 26-21 halftime lead. “Belov was like Steve Nash, in terms of how he controlled the ball,” Bantom says. “We couldn’t turn him over.” It quickly became clear to those watching that Iba’s deliberate system was working to the USSR’s advantage. The Americans couldn’t play the Soviet style as well as their opponents could.

“We had run against everybody else and had blown them out,” says 7-4 center Tom Burleson, who played at North Carolina State but was held out of the Gold-medal game because he had his fiancée in his room the night before. “We were trying to beat the Soviets at their own game.”

Things were even tougher in the second half. The Soviets inserted deep reserve Mikhail Korkiya to bait starting center Dwight Jones, the Americans’ top scorer and second-leading rebounder, into fighting. It worked. Jones squared off against the USSR scrub and was ejected quickly from the game.

“That’s an old European basketball trick,” says Bantom, who played seven years in Italy after spending eight seasons in the NBA. “We lost our starting center, and they lost their 12th man.”

During the jumpball after Jones’ ejection, power forward Jim Brewer was low-bridged and crashed to the floor, suffering a concussion. Although he played seven more minutes, Brewer was finished. Meanwhile, the American team sputtered offensively and couldn’t create the turnovers it needed to run. The Soviets led by 10 with 10 minutes left and 8 with five remaining. That’s when guards Kevin Joyce and Thomas Henderson decided to defy Iba and open things up. It worked. The US fought back to within one point, 49-48, with under 20 seconds remaining. McMillen blocked a short jumper, but the Soviets regained control under the basket. Collins stole a pass at the foul line and headed downcourt for what would have been the go-ahead layup. He was wiped out by Zurab Sakandelidze and crashed to the ground with 0:03 remaining.

Collins lay on the floor for a half-minute, stunned, before being helped to his feet and staggering to the foul line. US assistant John Bach told Iba to think about which player on the bench he would insert to shoot the free throws, in place of the dazed Collins. Iba didn’t consider it.

“He said, in his gravelly voice, and I’ll never forget it, ‘If Doug can walk, he’s shooting them,’” Collins says. “I thought, I’m not going to let my coach and teammates down. I’m going to make these.”

Despite a spinning head and a sore wrist, Collins stepped up and made both foul shots, giving the US a 50-49 lead. The Soviets inbounded the ball but didn’t get off a shot. The referees stopped action with 0:01 to play, but R. William Jones, then the Secretary General of the International Federation of Amateur Basketball and a man who had openly rooted for the Soviets in the 1952 Olympic final against the Americans, rushed to the floor and instructed the refs to put three seconds on the scoreboard. No worries. The Soviets inbounded the ball but didn’t even attempt a shot. The horn sounded, fans poured onto the floor and the US players celebrated their victory.

But the revelry was interrupted by an announcement informing everyone that “there are another three seconds left.” The referees had ruled that play had begun before the clock had been reset. Confused, the Americans lined up for one more “final” play. The 6-11 McMillen, who was guarding inbounds passer Edeshko, was told by the refs to give the Soviet player room. Instead of stepping back a couple feet, he retreated to the foul line. Iba refused to insert the 7-4 Burleson into the game to protect the basket, adhering to his disciplinary dictum. So the 6-3 Joyce and 6-7 James Forbes tried to outleap 6-9 Alexander Belov. Joyce couldn’t reach the throw, and Belov knocked Forbes to the floor before catching the pass and hitting a layup that gave the Soviets a 51-50 “victory.”

“I’ve never had any other moment where I was so high and then so low in my life,” McMillen says.

The Americans were dumbfounded. The Soviets were elated. US officials filed a quick protest, to prevent the awarding of the medals in the game’s immediate aftermath. The vote on the objection followed Cold War lines: Communists, 3 Capitalists, 2. The USSR had its Gold. The Americans refused to show up to receive their silver medals, which sit in a vault in Switzerland, never to be delivered.

“We felt we didn’t deserve silver,” Collins says. “It’s not like we were taking a stand. We didn’t deserve silver medals.”

* * *

The clock was winding down, this time on a wonderful night of celebration. As Collins surveyed his family and friends, he felt joy and pride. He was thankful they had helped him commemorate such a big moment.

Then, Chris stood up and reached into his pocket and spoke.

“He was very emotional,” Collins says. “He said, ‘This is 37 years too late, but you finally get a Gold medal,’ and he gave his [2008] medal to me.”

The 1972 Olympic debacle still stings Collins and his teammates. It will for the rest of their days. But sometimes even the biggest disappointments can be soothed by the generous gesture of a son, who reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little bit of gold.

—

All images: Rich Clarkson/The LIFE Images Collection/Getty Images

The post #NeverForget appeared first on SLAM.

On November 1, 2013, Walt Bellamy joined Jim Washington and Dewey McClain for the Atlanta Hawks game against Toronto at Philips Arena. The three men often gathered to watch the team, which made sense, since Bellamy played for Atlanta from 1970-74, and Washington was on the team from ’71-74. McClain was a former linebacker for the Falcons and just four days away from winning a special election to the Georgia House of Representatives. As the Hawks went about the business of bumping off the Raptors, 102-95, Watkins—a season ticket holder—approached the three men with a smile and asked about them.

“We’re good, Willie,” Washington said. “We’re not ready for you yet.”

Everybody laughed, as usual, and the game went on. Nobody could have known that Washington had been wrong. The next day, they would indeed need Watkins. Well, at least Bellamy would. While working out in a gym at a hotel near his house, Bellamy died at the age of 74. His wife of 53 years, Helen, called Washington at about 11 a.m. to deliver the news.

“It was a shock,” Washington says. “I was sitting there watching the game with him, and the next day, [Helen] called and said he had passed.

“Wow.”

It’s likely Bellamy’s heart gave out, even though he had seemed to Washington as if everything was going well for him. “I found out later that he had a pacemaker,” Washington says. “I didn’t know that.” It can’t be blamed for retiring from the job. During his life, Bellamy had played 13 seasons (and one game of a 14th) with five different franchises during a Hall of Fame career that produced more than 20,000 points and 14,000 rebounds. From the moment he rampaged into the League as a rookie with the dreadful Chicago Packers—who later became the Baltimore Bullets and eventually today’s Washington Wizards—and fashioned a Rookie of the Year performance that included 31.6 ppg and 19.0 rpg, Bellamy was one of the most talented big men in the NBA. A 6-11 specimen who could run with guards and still play inside well enough to make Bill Russell take notice, Bellamy was an enigmatic talent who could dazzle one night and infuriate the next.

“If he had [Hall of Fame center] Willis Reed’s tenacity, he would have been the greatest player ever,” legendary Knicks guard Walt Frazier says.

Motivation was indeed somewhat elusive for Bellamy, whose personality quirks included speaking of himself in the third person—“Walt Bellamy is open under the basket,” he would announce in the huddle during timeouts—sending back just about every meal he ordered in restaurants and heading for the phone booth to make calls as soon as his team hit a new city.

“We called him the ‘Phone Ranger,’” Frazier says, laughing. But Bellamy was more than just a puzzle. His post-basketball life included work with the NAACP, the Urban League and the Atlanta YMCA. Bellamy was also the Keeper of the Door for the Georgia State Senate, an appointed position. He was a good friend and a fun companion who enjoyed making others think he was mad at them.

“I told people that Walt was the biggest put-on artist I knew,” Washington says. “If you didn’t know him, you would think he was upset at you. I would tell people, ‘He putting you on.’ He was a very interesting character. He never ceased to amaze me.”

The 1961-62 Chicago Packers were not the worst basketball team in NBA history. With 18 wins—double the all-time League low—they don’t even enter the discussion, particularly with what the Sixers have been doing the past several years. But that doesn’t mean they weren’t terrible.

Mostly terrible.

Bellamy was certainly the exception. The rookie from Indiana averaged the aforementioned 31.6 ppg and 19.0 rpg with the Packers, a remarkable season for anyone, especially a first-year player. In many years, Bellamy’s scoring average might have led the League, but in ’61-62, a guy named Wilt happened to do the unthinkable and average 50.4 ppg for the whole damn season. Sure, he scored 100 against the poor Knicks, but he also hit for 60 or more on 14 other occasions. Sorry, Bells.

There’s a popular story concerning Bellamy’s first meeting with Chamberlain. The rook extended his hand before the opening tip and said, “H’lo, Mister Chamberlain. I’m Walter Bellamy.” Unimpressed, Wilt replied, “Hello, Walter. You won’t get a shot off in the first half.” Chamberlain proceeded to block the first 9 shots Bellamy took in the lane. Before the second half began, Chamberlain backed down. “OK, Walter, now you can play.” Bellamy finished with 14 points. Wilt had 51 in a 122-114 Philadelphia win.

Bellamy played in four straight All-Star Games at the beginning of his career, during which time he played for three iterations of the same franchise: the Packers, the Chicago Zephyrs and the Baltimore Bullets. Slick Leonard, who gained renown for coaching the Pacers in both the ABA and NBA, played with and coached Bellamy during the big man’s first four seasons. He remembers one particular game during the ’63-64 campaign when Bellamy put up 45 against the Celtics and Bill Russell, who often said Bellamy was one of his toughest opponents.

“Walt could score,” Leonard says. “He could run the floor and was fast. He could shoot and had a post game. He was able to put the ball on the floor, too.”

Bellamy was the modern power forward three decades before the species debuted in the NBA. There really wasn’t anything he couldn’t do on the floor. Frazier says Bellamy was “the fastest guy” on the Knicks. But there was that nagging sense that Bellamy could have always been a little more. Leonard remembers one time in St. Louis when he exploded at Bellamy because of his lack of effort.

“We really went at it,” Leonard says. “He felt like he could get away with playing when he felt like it. When he wanted to, he could go with the best of them.”

Eight games into Bellamy’s fifth year with what would become the Baltimore franchise, he was shipped to the Knicks for Jim Barnes, Johnny Green and Johnny Egan—none of whom had Bellamy’s talent. Bellamy arrived in New York in late 1965, a little over a year after the Knicks had drafted Willis Reed. He was his usual productive self in his first season (actually, 72 games) with New York, averaging 23.2 ppg and 16.0 rpg. He continued to produce over the next two-and-a-half seasons in Gotham, but he and Reed were a toxic blend. They competed against the opposition but were also personal rivals. Reed’s dogged approach to the game didn’t blend with Bellamy’s casual style, and Bellamy’s status as the team’s starting pivot angered Reed, who disliked playing the power forward spot.

“Willis and Bells hated each other,” Frazier says. “Willis wanted to play center, and Bells would fight him for rebounds. It was terrible.”

Frazier marvels at Bellamy’s talent, praising his shooting ability, his great screens and his quickness. He says the best NBA big men had trouble guarding Bellamy when he would drive to the hoop. But a cavalier work ethic prevented him from becoming one of the League’s elite players. You want to talk pure talent? Bellamy was in the discussion for the NBA’s best. But putting it into practice was a different story.

“He used to kill Chamberlain and Russell, and then [lumbering big man Tom] Boerwinkle would get 30 on him,” Frazier says.

The stylish Clyde appreciated Bellamy’s “exquisite tastes” and said that going out with him was always fun, but as the Knicks began to rise in the Eastern Conference in the late 1960s, the franchise had to make a decision. New York management knew Bellamy and Reed couldn’t coexist, at least not in a winning fashion. So the team dished Bellamy and Howard Komives to Detroit for forward Dave DeBusschere, a move that allowed Reed to move into the middle and solidified the team’s starting lineup—guards Frazier and Dick Barnett, forwards DeBusschere and Bill Bradley and Reed in the middle. The next season, New York won the world title.

“Willis was a tremendous leader,” Frazier says. “He worked hard in practice and was the antithesis of Bells in terms of galvanizing the team. DeBusschere was the final piece of the puzzle and made us a Championship team.”

Bellamy spent parts of two seasons in Detroit before the Pistons dealt him to Atlanta on February 1, 1970, a move that began the final chapter in Bellamy’s career. Those were interesting times for the Hawks, who drafted legendary gunner Pete Maravich that spring, adding him to a power-packed offense that included Bellamy, “Sweet” Lou Hudson and Walt Hazzard. The ’70-71 Hawks averaged 114.0 ppg but gave up 115.8, fourth-worst in the League. Bellamy could still pull down the rebounds (12.8 rpg) but was no longer a huge point producer (14.9 ppg).

“We had a backcourt of Lou Hudson and Pete Maravich, each of whom was going to put up 20 shots,” says Washington, who joined the Hawks early in the ’71-72 season. “There weren’t a lot of shots for other people.”

Bellamy spent four-plus seasons with Atlanta, his longest tenure with any one franchise. He could still score from all over the court, and he was perhaps the most mobile big man in the NBA. But he developed some intangibles that made him even more valuable. For instance, he could really set a screen. “He would open some holes for you when he set a pick,” says Joe Caldwell, a guard on the ’69-70 team. “He would stand still and take you out.”

As always, a strong dose of Bellamy charm came with the high-level basketball. Washington recalls the 6-11 center’s refusing to get on airplanes with the rest of the team, because “he didn’t want people to think he was a basketball player.” Well, no one was going to mistake him for a jockey, that’s for sure. Bellamy had odd habits when he went out to eat, too. Once, Washington and Maravich were sitting in a restaurant when Bellamy came in and sat down—at another table. “Pete said, ‘Watch. No matter what he orders, he’ll send it back,’” Washington says. “Sure enough, he did.”

But nothing Bellamy did was malicious or harmful. Sure, he could have played harder, but he was not wired that way. He played the game he loved the way he wanted to play it. And he was a true original—and one of the first athletes to speak about himself in the third person.

Once, Bellamy was upset that the referees weren’t calling fouls against the players who were guarding him. As he ran down the court, he said, loud enough for a ref to hear, “Walt Bellamy never gets calls.” According to Washington, the official responded in classic fashion: “The next time you talk to Walt Bellamy, tell him he’s going to get a technical foul if he doesn’t keep quiet.”

Bellamy probably didn’t relent. But he didn’t get the T, either. He just kept on playing, the way he wanted to, when he wanted to.

It was good enough for him, even if the rest of us might have wanted more.

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But that was the ABA for you. Always go big. You finally won a title? Why not issue a million-dollar challenge to the best of the best? A seven-game series for a seven-figure payout. There’s a sweet symmetry to it.

“We would have killed them,” says Dan Issel, a Colonel for five years.

If that was the case, then Brown was safe. Even though his Colonels were sagging financially, along with the rest of the ABA, the product on court was still stronger than Kentucky center Artis Gilmore, a sequoia of a man. Issel, Gilmore and Louie Dampier comprised the nucleus, and all three are in the Hall of Fame. It’s not at all crazy to think they would have dispatched the ’75 Warriors, who weren’t exactly the ’95-96 Bulls.

“We won [the finals] in five games, and [playing Golden State] would have been another five-game series,” Issel says.

We never found out how the teams would have fared against each other, because it made no sense for the NBA to agree to such a meeting. When you are big brother, you don’t give the kid a shot at your title.

As it turns out, that 1975 championship season was just about the last moment of glory for the franchise, one of the original ABA teams and certainly one of the two or three most stable. One season later, the league merged with the NBA, sending four teams (San Antonio, Indiana, Denver and the Nets) to the big time, while Kentucky joined St. Louis and Virginia—not to mention Utah and San Diego, which died early in the ’75-76 season—to the graveyard. ABA players were distributed to NBA teams like assets, and all that was left were red, white and blue memories.

“We were all in it together,” Issel says. “You might take a swing at a guy during the course of a game, but you might go and have dinner with him later on.”

The Colonels were a steady force in the ABA, and Issel, Gilmore and Dampier was as potent as any trio, no matter the league. Playing in Louisville’s Freedom Hall and capitalizing on the state’s affection for the University of Kentucky, the Colonels built a fan base and were rocks on a landscape that was always shifting. Sure, they had classic ABA moments, like when they used a female jockey (briefly) during a game and hired a pediatrician to be the team doctor, but everybody in the league did crazy stuff. The ABA began its existence in ’67 with 11 teams, and only four made it to ’76 in their same cities. Kentucky was one of them.

“I thought the team was first class in every way,” says Darel Carrier, who teamed with Dampier for five seasons. “We stayed in the best motels and ate well. You’d hear stories of roofs leaking and other things, but I didn’t see that.

“We had some really good basketball players.”

***

The idea was to get more women to Colonels games; that’s why Brown installed an all-female “board of directors.” It was ceremonial, of course; he ran the team. But by appearing friendly, he hoped to increase attendance. His wife Ellie was the chairman, and one day during the ’74-75 season, she and her fellow board members opened practice, but only to women. Issel estimates 300 people were in the stands when Hubie Brown, then a first-year coach, convened the workout.

Today, people know Brown as a TV analyst who breaks games into bite-sized portions that are easily digestible by viewers. When he stormed up and down the sidelines running teams, he was as caustic as could be, with a direct approach that included liberal doses of profanity. When he noticed the audience wasn’t taking interest in the proceedings, he stopped everything and issued a stern warning.

“I wasn’t excited about you being here,” Issel remembers him saying. “If you can’t be quiet and pay attention, you can get the fuck out of here.”

That did it. “Not another word was spoken,” Issel says.

Brown’s arrival was the final ingredient in the Colonels’ championship quest. They had the players but lacked the kind of leadership provided by Brown, one of the first coaches to pay attention to advanced statistics and apply them during games. He later called the Colonels the best he ever coached.

“When it came to coaching games, Hubie was the best I ever played for,” Issel says.

It wasn’t always that way. Not that the Colonels were mismanaged. No team, no matter how talented, could have enjoyed the success Kentucky did with people on the bench who didn’t know what they were doing. After stumbling in the Eastern semifinals their first two years, the Colonels reached the conference championship round in 1970. The next year, new GM Mike Storen hired UK legend Frank Ramsey, who helped the Wildcats win the 1951 national title and had generally been accorded deity status in his home state. Though somewhat reluctant to assume the reins, he did so to help the struggling Colonels, although some wondered if it was a good idea.

Kentucky only went 32-35 under Ramsey, who took over 17 games into the season. But once the playoffs started, things changed. The Colonels dumped Florida and Virginia to reach the finals with Utah, which had won 58 games during the regular season, 14 more than Kentucky had. The series went the distance, but Utah prevailed. That was it for Ramsey, who resigned after the season. It didn’t matter. Gilmore was on his way.

The Jacksonville University standout was technically a territorial property of the Floridians, based in Miami. The ABA, in an attempt to help attendance, encouraged teams to sign players who attended college close by. That’s how UK stars Dampier and Issel, not to mention Carrier, a Western Kentucky standout, ended up with the Colonels. Since the Floridians were one year away from extinction and were giving off the aroma of road kill, the idea of sending Gilmore to the franchise was ludicrous. The league held a meeting at which teams presented sealed bids for Gilmore. Storen pledged $3 million, a ridiculous figure for either league, but one that scared off other GMs. Kentucky got Gilmore and signed him to a 10-year deal worth $1.5 million, even though it was announced at $2.7 million. The numbers didn’t matter. What was important was that Gilmore was a Colonel.

“He was unbelievable,” Issel says. “His thighs (27 inches around) were almost as big as his waist.”

The arrival of Gilmore cannot be understated for both the Colonels and the ABA. He would have easily been the top pick in the NBA Draft, ahead of Austin Carr and Sidney Wicks. Though he played just two years at Jacksonville, he averaged 24.3 ppg and 22.7 rpg and led the nation in rebounding twice. He helped the Dolphins to the 1970 NCAA Championship game, where they fell, 80-69, to UCLA.

Standing 7-2 but looking far more imposing with a five-inch Afro, Gilmore was something of a mythical figure by the time he reached the NBA in ’76. He led the ABA in rebounding four of his five seasons and averaged 5.0 bpg as a rookie. With Gilmore protecting the rim, Kentucky could push way out on the men they were covering, secure in the fact that if they were beaten, A-Train was there.

“Defense was an area I placed emphasis on,” Gilmore says. “I prided myself on making a contribution.”

The ’71-72 Colonels won an ABA-record 68 games but somehow lost in the Eastern semis to the Nets in six. They reached the finals in ’73 but lost to Indiana in seven. It seemed ridiculous that a team with so much talent couldn’t win a championship. The Colonels certainly had offense. Issel scored 25 or more each of his first four seasons. “Dan was a special, unique player,” Gilmore says. “He was able to stretch the floor and knock down shots from the perimeter. He could also put the ball on the floor.” Gilmore was a regular 20-plus ppg sccorer, while also providing defense and rebounding.

Then there was Dampier. The Kentucky product was instrumental in Issel’s desire to join the Colonels, thanks to their friendship at UK when Dampier was a senior and Issel a freshman. Barely 6-0 and a lean 170 pounds, Dampier wasn’t going to overwhelm anyone. Give him six inches, however, and he could squeeze off a shot anywhere. The all-time ABA leader in points scored, three-pointers made, assists and games, Dampier is one of the most underrated players in history, simply because the bulk of his career came in a league that received little national attention.

“The second time I coached the Nuggets, I talked him into being one of my assistant coaches,” says Issel, who presented Dampier at his 2015 Hall induction. “Even at 60, he was the best shooter in the gym. Not only was he accurate, he could get his shot away so quickly. He couldn’t jump, but when he came off a pick, if he had a sliver of daylight, it was going in. And Darel Carrier was a close second in terms of shooting.”

Carrier came to the Colonels from the AAU ranks, where he played for the Phillips 66 team, which gave its players 20 gallons of gas for every three-pointer. “I told Louie I never had to pay for gas,” the marksman says. “But I split it with my teammates.” Carrier spent five years with the Colonels, leaving after the ’71-72 season for Memphis, before a torn Achilles ended his career.

The ABA’s end came in 1976, but Kentucky’s demise started a year earlier when owner John Brown decided to jettison a prime asset to save money. “It was either me or Artis,” Issel says. “Someone told him Artis was going to have a longer career than I would, so I was sold to the Baltimore Claws.” The Claws never paid up, so Brown shipped Issel to Denver, where he played 10 more seasons.

In 1976, the Colonels lost a semifinal series to Issel and the Nuggets, who went on to drop a memorable finals to Dr. J’s New York Nets. That was it for the ABA. Denver, San Antonio, Indiana and the Nets paid the $3 million fee to join the NBA. Brown declined. Gilmore was drafted by the Bulls; Dampier went to the Spurs.

Issel has a picture from the day Gilmore was inducted into the Hall, with Issel, Moses Malone, Erving, George Gervin and David Thompson, all ABA alums.

“There was a camaraderie that didn’t exist across teams in the NBA,” Issel says.

Kentucky was a big part of it.

—

Images via Getty

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Or, perhaps, a Championship.

The Sixers had blown a 2-0 lead in the ’77 Finals and fell in six games to Portland. The fallout from the late Darryl Dawkins’ comical Game 2 fight with Maurice Lucas and a barrage of George McGinnis bricks was another Philadelphia sporting disappointment and brought a promise from Dr. J that “We owe you one.” Thus, the photo.

That finger remained outstretched for six long years, through the improbable ’78 Eastern Conference championship round meltdown against Washington, the Magic Miracle in the ’80 Finals, the 1981 ECF choke job against Boston and the 1982 title series bowdown to L.A. By the 1982-83 season, the running joke in Philadelphia was that the Sixers’ credit line was just about exhausted. The team’s fans were tired of IOUs. It was time for the franchise to make a payment.

Only one man had the coin to pay up.

Moses.

On September 15, 1982, the Sixers traded center Caldwell Jones and a first-round pick to Houston to acquire the League’s best pure rebounder, Moses Malone. No longer would the team be susceptible in the middle. Jones and Dawkins were game—and in Dawkins’ case, a lot of fun—but Malone was a relentless, 6-10 board monster who was in the midst of a seven-season run in which he would lead the League in rebounds six times. In ’81-82, he had been a Leviathan, averaging 31.1 ppg and 14.7 rpg in a League-best 42 sweat-soaked minutes a night. The Sixers signed Malone to a then-unheard-of six-year, $13.2 million deal and stuck him into the middle of a core that included Erving, Mo Cheeks, Andrew Toney and Bobby Jones. The NBA title wasn’t necessarily won that day, but the Sixers certainly established themselves as strong favorites.

Philadelphia won a League-best 65 regular-season games, then the fifth-most in NBA history. And with Malone averaging 24.5 and 15.3, Philly was no longer the entertaining—though ultimately disappointing—team it had been the previous six seasons. It had been fun to watch Doc dunk, but it was time to win it all. When he joined the Sixers, Malone had been deferential. “I know it’s Doc’s show, and I’m happy to be part of Doc’s show,” he said. “Doc’ll still be the show, but maybe now it will be a better show.”

Erving was the headliner, but Malone was the reason the Sixers had been transformed. It was sometimes comical to watch him amassing three and four offensive rebounds—off of his own misses—on the same possession, and media members had to get used to his third-person Moses-speak, but nobody in the League worked harder on the court, and that was exactly what the flashy Sixers needed. In Malone, who died in September at the far-too-young-age of 60, Philly had the perfect, hard-hat-wearing pivotman.

Lakers fans grouse that had rookie James Worthy not broken his leg in ’83, and Norm Nixon not separated his shoulder in the first game of the Finals, things would have been different. Yeah, maybe L.A. might have won a game, and the Sixers’ “Fo-Fi-Fo” Playoff would have been amended. But why argue semantics? Malone made sure 1982-83 belonged to the Sixers. His uncompromising interior play steeled a team that had lacked a sturdy spine at a time when the NBA was still pivot-centric. Acquiring Malone transformed the Sixers from an entertaining basketball show into a deadly serious hardwood force. By the time the Sixers swept away the Lakers, all the debts were settled.

Philadelphia didn’t owe anybody a damn thing.

The post Fo’ Real appeared first on SLAM.

1. North Carolina

Key Players: Justin Jackson, Brice Johnson, Kennedy Meeks, Marcus Paige

The Skinny: Nobody was happy in Chapel Hill last year when Duke won it all, but it’s time for the Tar Heels’ revenge. Paige (who will miss the first three weeks of the season but should be back to full strength by the new year) is one of the nation’s top guards, and UNC has the best frontcourt in the land.

2. Maryland

Key Players: Robert Carter, Jake Layman, Diamond Stone, Melo Trimble

The Skinny: Was it just a year ago that coach Mark Turgeon was the subject of criticism and doubt? Thank you, Melo Trimble! The outstanding guard gets help this year from newcomers Stone and Carter, along with Layman, probably the country’s most underrated player.

3. Kentucky

Key Players: Isaiah Briscoe, Skal Labissiere, Jamal Murray, Alex Poythress, Tyler Ulis

The Skinny: Coach Cal has another great crop of freshmen in Lexington this year. Yawn. The question—as always—is whether it can come together and win big. Don’t bet against it, especially if Labissiere is a fire-breather, as expected.

4. Virginia

Key Players: Malcolm Brogdon, Anthony Gill, London Perrantes, Mike Tobey

The Skinny: The Cavaliers’ python-like defense will again torment opponents, especially those trying to play too fast because of the new, 30-second shot clock. UVA doesn’t score a bunch, but when you hold the other guys to 40, you don’t have to.

5. Duke

Key Players: Grayson Allen, Brandon Ingram, Chase Jeter, Derryck Thornton

The Skinny: Remember when Coach K didn’t like one-and-done kids? After last year’s National Title, he sure loves ’em. A bunch more come to town in the nation’s top recruiting class, joining Allen, who is ready to break out.

6. Kansas

Key Players: Cheick Diallo, Perry Ellis, Frank Mason, Wayne Selden

The Skinny: Never doubt the power—and luck—of Bill Self. Kelly Oubre and Cliff Alexander are gone, but Ellis and Selden decided to return. Then Diallo commited late, providing needed toughness inside. The Jayhawks will probably win the Big 12. Again.

7. Iowa State

Key Players: Deonte Burton, Jameel McKay, Monte Morris, Georges Niang

The Skinny: The Mayor—Fred Hoiberg—has left Ames, but Steve Prohm has a team with lots of talent, particularly Niang and Morris, and the ability to score. As usual, some transfers buttress the holdovers, and a trip to the top reaches of the Big 12 is likely.

8. Utah

Key Players: Jordan Loveridge, Jakob Poeltl, Brandon Taylor, Dakarai Tucker

The Skinny: The NBA is already drooling about Poeltl, who’ll be a Lottery pick when he decides to leave Salt Lake City. The Utes have plenty of guards and good depth. So what if Delon Wright is gone? There’s plenty left.

9. Oklahoma

Key Players: Isaiah Cousins, Buddy Hield, Ryan Spangler, Jordan Woodard

The Skinny: The Sooners are going to play some nasty defense; count on that. And Hield can pile up the points. OU has good experience, but if the newcomers don’t deliver, depth will be a problem.

10. Arizona

Key Players: Ryan Anderson, Justin Simon, Kaleb Tarczewski, Allonzo Trier

The Skinny: Every year, it’s the same thing in Tucson: Is this the season the Wildcats get to the Final Four? Nope. But there’s plenty to like about this squad. The freshmen are amazing. The defense will be stout. Tarczewski is tough to handle. And BC transfer Anderson will make a big impact. Pretty darn good.

11. Wichita State

Key Players: Ron Baker, Connor Frankamp, Anton Grady, Fred VanVleet

The Skinny: Some of the names are the same, but the one that matters—Gregg Marshall—signed a big-money contract to hang around. VanVleet and Baker lead the Gonzaga of the Plains to another big season.

12. Villanova

Key Players: Ryan Arcidiacono, Jalen Brunson, Josh Hart, Daniel Ochefu

The Skinny: Nobody does guards like the Wildcats, and adding the explosive Brunson to Arcidiacono and Hart will make ’Nova as potent as ever. Watch out for Ochefu, who’s ready to be a bigger producer inside.

13. Baylor

Key Players: Rico Gathers, King McClure, Lester Medford, Taurean Prince

The Skinny: The Bears will still board well; Gathers sees to that. But what about the backcourt? Medford can’t keep turning it over so much, and McClure had better come through quickly to keep Baylor near the Big 12’s top.

14. Indiana

Key Players: James Blackmon, Thomas Bryant, Yogi Ferrell, Troy Williams

The Skinny: No coach got better news last spring than IU’s Tom Crean, who learned Ferrell and Blackmon weren’t going to the NBA and that Bryant was heading to Bloomington. Instead of hearing fans’ grousing about lack of success, Crean should be listening to a season of cheers.

15. Gonzaga

Key Players: Przemek Karnowski, Josh Perkins, Damontas Sabonis, Kyle Wiltjer

The Skinny: It doesn’t get much better than the Zags’ forward wall, which has the ability to handle any job necessary. But the losses of Kevin Pangos and Gary Bell mean Perkins had better be good quickly, or the big guys will go hungry.

16. Notre Dame

Key Players: Zach Auguste, Bonzie Colson, Demetrius Jackson, Steve Vasturia

The Skinny: The Irish scored more than Russell Brand last year, and though Jerian Grant and Pat Connaughton are gone, ND will be plenty potent this time. Auguste emerged as a force in last year’s tourney, and Jackson should become a big producer in the backcourt.

17. California

Key Players: Jabari Bird, Jaylen Brown, Ivan Rabb, Tyrone Wallace

The Skinny: The returns of Wallace and Bird are big, but the arrivals of Rabb and Brown, two of the top recruits in the country, are enormous. For the first time in a long time, Cal is national player.

18. Michigan State

Key Players: Matt Costello, Bryn Forbes, Eron Harris, Denzel Valentine

The Skinny: Once again, the Spartans are going to win with a bunch of players who lack star power. All they do is execute, defend like predators and obey the wild man on the sideline, Tom Izzo. WVU transfer Harris boosts the offense, while everybody else does his job.

19. Michigan

Key Players: Spike Albrecht, Zak Irvin, Caris LeVert, Derrick Walton

The Skinny: The returns of LeVert and Walton from injury mean offensive mad scientist John Beilein will have a deep and versatile cast to unleash on the Big Ten. If the big guys can consistently rebound and finish, Michigan will be dangerous.

20. Miami

Key Players: Tonye Jekiri, Sheldon McClellan, Kamari Murphy, Angel Rodriguez

The Skinny: Murphy balances the potent backcourt of McClellan and Rodriguez and gives the Hurricanes some much-needed frontcourt pop. Underrated coach Jim Larranaga does the rest. The result: an ACC darkhorse with plenty of punch.

—

image via Jeffrey A. Camarati/UNC

The post Heel Turn appeared first on SLAM.

When the Los Angeles Lakers traveled across the country in 1985 to play the sixth game of the NBA Finals in Boston, they did so without GM Jerry West. The Logo had endured six championship round losses to the Celtics, and he had become convinced that he was responsible for the  Lakers’ futility. In West’s mind, he was a human cracked mirror. It didn’t matter that L.A. had a 3-2 lead in games and two chances to close things out. Bitter memories of crushing defeats haunted him, and he stayed out in California. Losing to Boston had been so hard for West that the idea that it could happen again—as it had the previous season—revolted him. “He thought he was bad luck,” says Pat Riley, coach of the ’85 Lakers. “He was cursed, because he lost all those games in the ’60s. He wouldn’t even go to the games.”

The Lakers had lost a pair of championship series to the Knicks during West’s 14 All-Star seasons with the franchise. They fell to Milwaukee, St. Louis and San Francisco in the Western Conference finals. But none of that stung like being subdued by the Celtics. Again and again.

And again.

So, West stayed home. And the Lakers won. It was a coincidence, of course, unless it wasn’t. In order for L.A. to get rid of the historical “albatross” that Riley believed the team carried, West just couldn’t be there. But everybody else could. By the time the two teams met in ’85, they had defined professional basketball in a way that wasn’t replicated anywhere else. They only  met three times in the Finals during the 1980s, but so much of professional basketball depended upon their rivalry. Players like West, Elgin Baylor, Wilt Chamberlain, Bill Russell and Sam Jones may have ruled the ’60s, but the relationship between the two teams was one-sided then. In the ’80s, it was Larry Bird vs Magic Johnson in a made-for-TV struggle that saved the League from its messy 1970s self.

That’s no understatement. Without Bird and Magic, the NBA might still be showing its Finals games on tape delay at 11:30 Eastern. Those two turned a sport that was in complete chaos into an athletic happening, and their battles made the Lakers-Celtics rivalry real for all basketball fans. The teams played twice a year during the regular season, and just about everybody tuned in. When they locked up for the Big Prize, it became a national obsession.

Boston had beaten the Lakers in 1984, and Riley still blames himself for a Game 2 decision that led to a Celtic victory. In ’85, when L.A. finally broke the string of seven straight Finals losses to its ancient rival, everyone who had ever donned Forum Blue and Gold rejoiced.

“Without a doubt, ’85 was the gold standard of Championships for me,” says Riley, who also won a title as a player with the Lakers in 1972.

It took some time for the rivalry to reach its pinnacle in the ’80s. The Lakers played Philadelphia for the title three times (1980, ’82 and ’83) before L.A. met the Celtics in the Finals. Sure, those Lakers-Sixers series were great, what with Magic playing hero in Game 6 back in ’80, Dr. J’s aerial acrobatics earlier in that series and the fo-fi-fo Sixers breakthrough in 1983. And Philly-Boston had plenty of fascinating storylines, not to mention a substantial dose of misery for Sixers fans. But nothing could match the allure of Boston and L.A.

Even though the NBA was still on the sporting outskirts in the 1960s—well behind baseball and football—the Championship series between the two teams had featured enough star power to fill the Hall of Fame. The ‘80s editions were packed with talent, too. L.A. had Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, James Worthy, Jamaal Wilkes and Byron Scott. Boston countered with Kevin McHale, Robert Parish and Dennis Johnson. But the real allure of the rivalry at its apex, more so than the history and list of superstar players, was the magnetism of Bird and Magic.

Johnson was so charismatic that he even stoked the smoldering embers in the stoic Abdul-Jabbar. Fans couldn’t help but tune in to see the next no-look pass or breakneck fastbreak, all accomplished with a wide smile that seemed to indicate a childlike love of the game. Bird had no such outward sign of basketball joy, but that didn’t mean his passion for the game was any less robust than Magic’s. He thirsted to win and played with a quiet fury that provided a perfect counterpart to Magic’s joyful approach. Though they spent their careers 3,000 miles apart on the map, they will be forever linked to the NBA’s renaissance. And by providing so many highlights and so much drama during their regular season and Finals encounters, the players brought the NBA into the sporting and cultural forefront.

It doesn’t matter today whether Boston and the  Lakers are struggling to regain their championship personalities. When they reemerge, the basketball world will be waiting, just as it was when the teams met for the title in 2008 and 2010. The best rivalries never stop. They simmer. And when the flame rises again, everybody feels the heat. And loves it. Even Jerry West.

Michael Bradley is a Senior Writer at SLAM. 

The post The Rivalry appeared first on SLAM.

The stories are all true. Or, none of them are. Harding shot at a teammate’s feet once to make him “dance.” His roommate awoke in the middle of the night to find Harding standing over him with a gun pointed at his head. He allegedly raped a future member of The Supremes at knifepoint.

The stories are scary. But they are just the stories. It’s really about the man, and Harding was one complicated man. He could have been a great basketball player, but he wanted to be a legend of the street. Drugs. Weapons. Crime. Parties. Reggie Harding checked off all the clichés of a hard-living existence. When he was shot dead in 1972, at the age of 30, he left behind a pile of could’ve-beens and shaking heads.

But there were moments. There always are in these stories. Harding dominated this game. He hung tough with this Hall of Famer. And he could surprise off the court, whenever he tore himself away from the trouble.

When Harding joined the Pistons as a rookie in 1963, he roomed on the road with third-year power forward Ray Scott, back when NBA players didn’t spend their idle hours in strange cities hanging out in their private suites at the Ritz. Scott was a reader, and he favored books about the struggle of blacks in America, like Richard Wright’s Native Son. In ’65, he was reading The Autobiography of Malcolm X, which was written in collaboration with Alex Haley.

“He asked me, ‘What are you reading,’” Scott says. “I told him, and he said, ‘Let me read it when you’re done.’ He did, and we sat up several nights talking about it.”

No matter how interested Harding could become in social issues, nothing had the strength to overcome trouble’s intoxicating lure. The NBA was a much different world in the 1960s, and not just because of the hotel situation. Teams didn’t have assistant coaches. When practices ended, players packed their gym bags and headed off, alone. Some went home to their families. Others lived alone. And if someone like Harding wanted to dive into the world of nefarious characters and bad-news associates, there was no one within the organization around to intervene. When he packed that gym bag, the story goes, there was often a gun in it.

Even when his reputation had been established—he was suspended for the entire 1965-66 season—the Bulls still traded for him in 1967. It seems Chicago needed a big man (Harding was 7-feet tall) more than it needed to stay away from trouble. It wasn’t the first time a team made a compromise like that, and it has certainly happened since then. In each case, there’s a hope that “this time will be different.” It rarely is, and in the case of Harding, it certainly wasn’t.

“Reggie was a ‘could’ve been,’” Scott says. “He could’ve been so much more. He couldn’t cut his environment loose. As a tragedy, it’s almost Shakespearean. The more successful he became, the more he wanted to get back to that environment.

“He could’ve gotten out of it, but he didn’t want to.”

It’s tempting to laugh when the Harding stories are retold. How can you not chuckle when hearing about how he allegedly robbed the same gas station in his Detroit neighborhood three times. When the Masked Man hit the spot for the third time, the attendant was reported to have said, “I know it’s you, Reggie.”

“No, man, it ain’t me,” Harding supposedly said in reply. “Shut up and give me the money.”

Today, Harding’s fiasco would be included in a “World’s Dumbest Criminals” list. The problem with Harding was that he wasn’t just a bumbling crook—he was dangerous, to himself and others. The guns. The drugs. The street thugs. That’s not a good concoction. Yet, Scott won’t tear into Harding for his choices, instead lamenting the lost opportunities and blown potential.

There are others who feel the same way. They know Harding was with the wrong people at the wrong times of the day and night doing the wrong things. But the man they saw was different. He was young and careless. And the wrong people had influenced him. The wrong world.

“He was a fun guy and a nice teammate,” says Rod Thorn, the NBA’s President of Basketball Operations and an eight-year NBA vet who played with Harding in Detroit during the ’64-65 season. “He was a fun-loving guy. Like most kids, he was a little immature and didn’t take a lot of things seriously. I always got along with him. We’d kid around with each other.”

Harding was born in Detroit on May 4, 1942 and graduated from the city’s Eastern HS, which in 1968 was re-named Martin Luther King High and draws students from the downtown and midtown areas. Though Detroit has become a mere husk of its mighty former self over the past 25-30 years, it still had its problems in the late 1950s and early ’60s, as poor southern migrants continued to flood the town. For all of the grandeur spawned by the American automotive industry’s heyday, there were still plenty of parts of Detroit that struggled with crime and poverty.

Harding graduated from Eastern in 1960, eight years ahead of the race riots triggered by King’s shooting. For struggling African-Americans in the city, there was plenty of trouble to be had. College was not an option for Harding, so he played at a prep school in Nashville and for two seasons in the professional Midwest League in Toledo and Holland, MI. In 1963, the Pistons drafted Harding in the sixth round with the 48th overall pick, making him the first player ever drafted who hadn’t played in college. He played 39 games that year, averaging 11.0 ppg and 10.5 rpg. It was clear he had talent. The next season, Harding averaged 34.6 minutes in 78 games and scored 12.0 ppg while pulling down 11.6 rpg for a Pistons team that finished fourth in the Western Division.

“I thought he was a player with big potential,” says Thorn, who joined Detroit that year. “He had a great body, long arms and was very long. I thought on the defensive end of the court he had tremendous potential.”

Yes, Harding had potential. But he had nobody to get him beyond that point. Look at an NBA bench today, and you’ll see a battalion of assistant coaches and player development specialists. Someone young, raw and 7-feet tall like Harding would receive constant attention at practice and before games. The team would devise a nutritional strategy for him. It would customize offseason workouts to maximize skill growth. That wasn’t the case in 1964. Detroit’s case was even more removed from today’s model, since nine games into the season, star forward Dave DeBusschere took over as coach. That meant it was even less likely Harding would get individual attention.

Not that he really wanted it. Often, Harding went straight from practice to the club. And sometimes, he came straight from the club to practice. He was young and fun-loving, but he wanted too much fun.

“In order to develop your basketball skills, you need discipline,” Scott says. “His lack of discipline affected his stamina. It was just a matter of not taking care of himself and getting his rest.”

The NBA suspended Harding for the entire 1965-66 season. There are those who say the reason is unknown. Others report it was because of his legal problems brought on by weapons charges. That makes sense, because Harding was rarely too far from a gun. Though he returned to the Pistons in ’67, he played only 18.5 minutes a night and his averages fell to 5.5 ppg and 6.1 rpg. It was clear that the streets were in control. Whether it was booze, drugs, women, gunplay or general bad behavior, Harding was a part-time NBA player and a full-time gangster.

“When the game ended, I used to ask Reggie where he was going and say, ‘Keep your nose clean,’” Scott says. “But there were always four or five guys waiting for him from the neighborhood. It was a question of who you’re going to listen to.”

Before the 1967-68 season, Detroit dished Harding to Chicago for a third-round Draft pick. His stay with the Bulls was brief, only 14 games. The team opened the season 1-15, and then-coach Johnny Kerr often told a story about how the team held a 1-point lead over the Lakers with only a few seconds left. L.A. had the ball, and Kerr assigned Harding to guard Los Angeles center Mel Counts. When Laker guard Walt Hazzard threw the ball over the backboard, Kerr rejoiced, thinking the Bulls had won. But Harding had knocked Counts to the ground away from the play and Counts was awarded two free throws. He made both, and Chicago dropped a 97-96 decision.

Harding’s career ended with a 25-game stint in ’67-68 with Indiana of the ABA. He played well, scoring 13.4 ppg and hauling in 13.4 rpg. But Harding couldn’t get it right off the court. He threatened to kill team GM Mike Storen during a televised interview. Harding pointed a loaded pistol at roommate Jimmy Rayl, convinced Rayl was a racist. Even in the wild ABA, Harding stood out as the ultimate Dangerous Man. When the season ended, he actually owed the Pacers $400, because instead of settling for the $10,000 the team offered, Harding opted for $300 a game and was fined so much for missing practice or showing up late for flights that he was in debt.

That was it for Harding, the basketball player. The man suffered a worse fate than being released and ignored by professional teams. On September 2, 1972, Harding was shot at an intersection in Detroit. No one can pinpoint the reason for his slaying, but it’s not hard to imagine a deal gone wrong, a beef with some local tough turning sour, or just the random violence of the street.

“A lot of people were very emotional about Reggie,” Scott says. “Some people viewed his story as a fault of society. Society did fail him, but we were never able to get him off the street. In my opinion, Reggie was where he wanted to be.”

The final indignity came as his casket was lowered into the ground. The hole wasn’t big enough, so Harding had to be buried on a slant.

His life was too short. His ride was too fast. His end was too sad.

The streets aren’t undefeated, but their winning percentage is too damn high.

Michael Bradley is a Senior Writer at SLAM.

The post Signed to the Streets appeared first on SLAM.

The NBA was different in the ’60s. There were no fat television contracts, and attendance was spotty, especially for mid-week contests. The League packed its action into the weekends, hoping for more fans, and that meant some stretches of three games in three days—and even a withering four straight sometimes. By Sunday, the strain of competition and travel would knock some players back. They might be on the court, but they weren’t too keen on working all that hard. A cranky knee or bum shoulder made more convincing arguments than did pride and duty.

That was when Howell went deep. Back to the times when his school would let out in the fall to let the kids help with the cotton harvest. Some vacation, huh? He remembered the work he put in with his small-town Tennessee high school team that helped it reach the state tournament, despite being part of a graduating class of just 34. He would fix his mind, do the best he could to ignore the pain and play.

“I felt like every night you needed to contribute, whether you felt good or not,” Howell says. “We played a lot of games on Friday nights, Saturday nights and Sunday afternoons. On Sunday afternoon, everybody was out there feeling sorry for themselves. If I could make my body do it with the strength of my mind, I was all right. I had some of my good games on Sundays.”

Howell didn’t just produce on the weekends. Throughout his Hall of Fame career, the 6-7 forward brought his roughhouse brand of basketball every game. A six-time All-Star and two-time World Champion, Howell scored efficiently, rebounded physically and competed with an abandon that made him the perfect teammate—and a fearsome opponent. Howell wasn’t dirty. It’s just that in a League that included some of the fastest and springiest, he was neither. He compensated with effort and overwhelming desire. No one was going to outwork Howell.

“He was a fierce competitor,” Hall of Fame forward Billy Cunningham says. “He would do anything humanly possible to stop you from scoring or to score himself. He was right on the edge.

“When we were on the same team [in 1970-71], I made sure I didn’t play against him in practice. I’d end up with a welt.”

It’s hard to imagine the soft-spoken Howell as a dervish on court, but he understood early that his basketball path would continue not because of physical gifts—although at 6-7 and 210 pounds, he did have a frame suited for the 1960s game—but because of his hard work. An All-American at Mississippi State, Howell played for four NBA teams, but it was his four seasons in Boston, at the end of the Celtics’ run of 11 titles in 13 years, that earned him most notice.

With teammates like Bill Russell, Sam Jones and John Havlicek, Howell wasn’t going to stand out, even though he was Boston’s second-leading scorer twice during his time there. The Celtics didn’t run plays for him, and that was fine. He shot when he was supposed to, created opportunities for himself on the offensive boards and fit perfectly into the Celtics’ team approach. And why wouldn’t he? After playing in relative anonymity with Detroit and Baltimore for seven seasons, a player like Howell was delighted to be with a franchise that operated the way he did.

“He was the perfect player for the Celtics,” Cunningham says. “He didn’t need the ball a great deal to score. When he was open, he shot it. He didn’t pound the ball to beat somebody off the dribble. He knew his limitations, and he knew his strengths.”

***

In today’s hoops world, AAU ball is known for enough gear to fill a dozen gym bags, summer tourneys in Vegas and other hot spots and a rather laid-back approach to defense. When Howell finished his four years at Mississippi State, it was a much different scene. And he was thinking about becoming part of it—instead of playing in the NBA.

Back then, no high school kids played AAU basketball. Teams sponsored by companies around the country competed, usually with former college stars, and every four years the best of them all would represent the United States in the Olympics. Players received jobs that paid well and then practiced after work. It was a pretty good deal. There was only one problem.

“I wanted to play with the best,” Howell says. “And, of course, the money was about double what you would make in the AAU league.”

That’s why, when the Pistons took him with the second pick of the second round in 1959, Howell decided against becoming a company man and joined the NBA. It wasn’t easy for a product of the South’s farming world to move to the industrial Midwest, but Howell had an adjustment to make that went beyond the cultural divide. From the time he was a prep star through his three seasons in Starkville (freshmen weren’t eligible to play at that time), he had been a center and was strong with his back to the basket. The NBA didn’t have any 6-7 pivotmen, so Howell had to change his game.

“Playing on the perimeter meant I had to learn a new skill set I had never developed before,” he says.

Howell may not have been able to take people off the dribble, but that didn’t matter when he was in high school and college. Despite growing up in Middleton, TN, a town of “about 300 people,” he attracted the attention of SEC programs. Kentucky, then (as now) the biggest thing in Southern basketball, sent an assistant coach to recruit Howell. But Mississippi State dispatched boss man Babe McCarthy. “Ol Magnolia Mouth” lived up to his nickname, selling the Bulldog program to Howell and his family.

McCarthy’s personal touch paid off handsomely. Howell became the bulwark of the MSU program and graduated as the school’s all-time leading scorer. (Jeff Malone passed him in 1983 but needed four years to do it.) The ’58-59 Bulldogs finished 24-1 and captured the SEC title, losing only to Auburn. Howell was a First-Team All-American, but Mississippi State never made it to the NCAA Tournament. The university’s administration prohibited the team from playing because it didn’t want the Bulldogs competing against rivals that had African-American players on their rosters. Howell had to settle for becoming Starkville royalty. The school has retired his number and named a street on campus after him.

“Most schools, once your eligibility is over, they kind of forget about you,” Howell says. “That was not the case at Mississippi State. They have continued to promote me wherever they can. It has been a lifelong association.”

Although Howell reports having to change his style of play to handle the switch from the pivot to forward, he was immediately successful in the NBA, averaging 17.8 ppg and 10.5 rpg with the Pistons as a rookie. Despite earning All-Star berths in each of his next four seasons in Detroit, the team finished below .500 every year. Because there were only nine teams in the League, the Pistons made the Playoffs four times but never truly contended.

In the summer after the ’63-64 season, Howell was part of an eight-player trade that sent him to Baltimore. “They pretty much traded everyone on their rosters to each other,” he says. His two seasons with the Bullets weren’t much different than his time in Detroit. The team reached the Playoffs both years, largely by default, since it had an sub-.500 record both times. Howell continued his steady scoring and board work and played in the ’65 All-Star Game, but he wasn’t happy with being on the NBA’s outskirts. That changed on September 1, 1966, when Baltimore traded him to Boston for Mel Counts. He’d gone from the margins to the NBA’s seat of power. Boston had won nine of the last 10 titles. “Now, I’m in Fairyland,” Howell says, laughing. Howell was perhaps the perfect person to join the Celtics, thanks to his commitment to the team and his tremendous competitiveness.

“Bailey was one of the nicest guys you were going to meet,” says Kevin Loughery, who played 11 NBA seasons, including parts of four with Howell. “He was a deeply religious man. He never drank or smoked. But when the bell rang, he was a terror. He was one of the most underrated players of his time.”

Philadelphia snapped the Celtics’ string of eight straight titles in 1966-67, Howell’s first year in Boston. “Was I the kiss of death?” Howell jokingly asks. As the ’67-68 season dawned, many thought the dynasty was done. Russell and Jones were old, and Philadelphia was rising. But despite finishing eight games behind the Sixers in the East, Boston won a seven-game conference championship series over Philadelphia, overcoming a 3-1 deficit in the process, and took care of the Lakers in six games to win it all. Howell was magnificent in the clincher in L.A., scoring 30 points and grabbing 11 boards.

“The tradition was there,” Howell says. “It’s hard to explain what it does for a team. It kind of allows you in tough games to win.”

Howell finished second in scoring on the Celts in 1968-69, when Boston won its final title of the Russell era, dumping L.A. in seven games. He lasted one more year with the Celtics before spending the ’70-71 season with the Sixers. That was his last run. Howell could have extended his career, but he chose to leave the game before he became a deep reserve.

“At times [during the last year], I could play as well as I ever did, but night after night, I was behind some,” he says. “I could have hung around and contributed at times, but I spent a lot of time on the bench. For most of my 11 years, I had played as many minutes as I could.”

Howell took a job with Converse selling and promoting the legendary Chuck Taylor shoe that dominated the court. “For a long time, we were order takers, not salesmen,” Howell says. He spent 23 years with the company before retiring to Starkville. He helped Mississippi State raise funds and relished a strong relationship with the school he served so well as a player and alumnus. Howell was inducted into the Naismith Hall of Fame in 1997, a well-deserved honor for a standout who had maximized his potential.

And usually succeed.

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Whenever I talk to Villanova coach Jay Wright about building a program in this uncertain era of one-year campus residences and transfer mania, he always refers to one man.

“I don’t know how Cal does it,” Wright says, admiringly.

Cal, of course, is Kentucky coach John Calipari, whose ability to reinvent his roster every season has impressed some and infuriated others.

Many people consider Calipari Exhibit A for “everything that is wrong” with college basketball. Others, like Wright, marvel at how he works within a highly imperfect system to gain an advantage by keeping top recruits for a season before sending them to collect NBA first-round paychecks.

It’s the ultimate case of athletic ADD. The players don’t want to stick around longer than six or seven months, and Calipari doesn’t seem too worried about it, especially since another bunch of five-star prodigies is waiting for its turn in Lexington.

Calipari is college basketball’s Modern Man, embracing the rules set in place by others and thriving because he understands how to operate within them better than anybody else. It’s always funny to me why people get mad at him for recruiting players who would rather go to the NBA right out of high school if they were allowed—and then encouraging them to leave after a season. Like he decided this was the way to go. You think he wants that kind of pressure? While other coaches add a couple players every year to replace some departed personnel and shore up various areas of the roster, Calipari has to refurbish the whole team.

He’s the best at what he does, and he deserves credit for it. You want to stop him? Get Adam Silver and the NBA Players Union together and ask them to find a New Way. Until that happens, leave Cal alone. “Coach Cal was an NBA coach. He runs his program like an NBA team. He does a great job of getting guys ready for the NBA,” says Anthony Davis.

Anyone still railing at the Kentucky program probably still wears Stockton shorts when they play pickup. And all of that anger is obscuring what could well be a historic season for the Wildcats. By the time you read this, Kentucky may have lost a game, although given the caliber of play in the SEC this year, UK’s potential for loss doesn’t get above the Ridiculously Colossal Upset Stage until at least the Elite 8. How’d you like to be coaching the poor team that has to face Kentucky in the second round? You’d have to stage practices against Imperial Storm Troopers to get ready.

This season, Cal has convinced 10 prep superstars (the rotation has dipped to nine prep All-Americans since the loss of Alex Poythress, with the relatively unheralded Dominique Hawkins stepping in) to accept diminished roles, when each could be taking 20 shots a game somewhere else. Think about the names, or just look at our cover: Booker. Cauley-Stein. Harrison (x2). Johnson. Lee. Lyles. Towns. Ulis. At 99 percent of the DI programs in America, a parade would have been held if any of them committed. Cal and UK got all nine of ’em. And they’re playing together.

Anybody who wants to crack on Calipari’s methods ought to try pulling that off. It’s a wonder a posse of crazy uncles and AAU hangers-on doesn’t descend on his office demanding more highlights for the superstars. What’s more, Coach Cal has these guys playing defense. Real, nasty D. The kind of defense that has people using the word “historic” to describe it. That’s the real magic of this year’s team. As of late February, opponents were shooting 34.3 percent from the field against the 28-0 Wildcats. That’s it. Barely one of three shots hits their mark. Keep that up, and it won’t matter whether Kentucky’s top scorer averages 11 points or 4. The Wildcats aren’t losing.

So, the defense is great. If Kentucky continues at its current rate of opposition strangulation, the Wildcats will be among the best defensive outfits since the three-point shot was introduced. And when UK has to turn it up offensively, it can fill the bucket, as it did in the late moments of a 68-61 February win over Florida, when the Wildcats shrugged off a 28-point first half with 40 after intermission. Kentucky shoots it well enough from long range (35 percent) to force rival defenders to respect the perimeter and has four frontcourt players shooting better than 50 percent from the field. The Wildcats don’t cough it up too often and share it well enough to make the other guys move around every possession.

It’s an impressive package that is more complete than anything else in today’s college basketball orbit. The question that continues to be posed, as Kentucky attempts to become the first team since the ’75-76 Indiana Hoosiers to finish the season undefeated, is how Calipari’s outfit compares to the greatest of the great.

And that’s where the trouble starts, at least in an era when we are told everything is better, simply because it exists now. Broadcasters provide breathless accounts of athletes’ exploits in highlight packages that often appear more like music videos than news reports. Games and teams are sold to fans by outlets reliant on viewership, so the mundane is portrayed as spectacular, the better to guarantee future attention to the product. As a result, perspective doesn’t exist. Only today can be great. Everything else is “old” or “irrelevant.”

Well, I’ve been around for a while, so trust me when I say: This year’s Wildcats may well be one of the best teams ever, but the college hoops climate in which it’s operating is vastly different than what prevailed 20, 30 or 40 (or more) years ago. And different isn’t better. The athletic ability of today’s players may be superior to that of previous ages, but their skill levels are diminished. A big man—if you can find one—with more than one rudimentary post move creates a sensation. Ball movement and patterned offenses that result in easy shots have been replaced by dozens of pick-and-roll variations and isolation sets designed to draw fouls or attract defenders away from three-point launchers splayed around the perimeter. “Motion” offenses are actually white flags flown by coaches who realize trying to get a collection of AAU stars to be disciplined enough to run a system based on understanding their own and their opponents’ various strengths and weaknesses is impossible.

Further, and perhaps most important, the annual exodus of players after one or two seasons robs teams of maturity and experience, which are huge in big games against tough comp. It’s one thing to celebrate a freshman’s potential and another to rely on a senior’s performance.

So, how would Kentucky fit into some of the old college basketball worlds? It’s not like the Wildcats would be rolled over by some of the best, but imagining how Lew Alcindor (later Kareem Abdul-Jabbar)—perhaps the greatest college player of all time—and his UCLA teams from the late 1960s would approach Kentucky is a fun exercise. It would be compelling to watch Bill Walton’s ’72-73 Bruins, who won all but five of their 30 games (without a loss) by more than 10 points, attack the Kentucky defense.

That ’75-76 Indiana team would be particularly difficult for the Wildcats to handle. The upperclassmen-dominated Hoosiers, who featured four future first-round picks, was the epitome of focused fury, a lethally efficient extension of their martinet coach Bob Knight. The Hoosiers did it all and did it all well—or else. Magic Johnson and his ’79 Michigan State national championship team would provide a different type of challenge, thanks to Magic’s rare combination of size and point-guard skill. Most important, though, was his desire to win. Duke’s 1992 National Title outfit had just about everything a basketball team needs. And it would be interesting to see how these Wildcats fared against the streetfighters on Michigan State’s 2000 championship squad.

If Kentucky finishes 40-0 and cuts ’em down, it will be irresponsible to minimize its accomplishment. From 1956-1976, there were seven undefeated teams. Since then, nothing. It doesn’t matter whether the game is better or worse than it was in the past. Winning them all in one season is a tremendous accomplishment.

This is a plea for perspective. Celebrate Kentucky’s perfection, if the ’Cats achieve it. But avoid the hyperbole and superlatives certain to come from fawning media members charged with selling the product, rather than analyzing how things fit into the greater universe. This is a tremendous Kentucky team, but an undefeated season won’t make it the best ever. Times have changed, and not necessarily for the better.

One more thing: Lay off Coach Cal. He didn’t make the rules.

Michael Bradley is a Senior Writer at SLAM. Follow him on Twitter @DailyHombre.

RELATED: Not long ago, Anthony Davis was a March Madness phenomenon at Kentucky. Three years later, the 22-year-old might be the best player on the planet.

The post How High? appeared first on SLAM.

Not long after that, talk will turn to the wheeze. It was a horrible sound, and when Arizin ran up and down the court, he sounded as if the next step would send him straight to the graveyard. Some NBA greats have glided across the hardwood, seemingly never touching the ground. Arizin sounded like a dump truck stuck in first gear. If Yankees great Lou Gehrig was the “Iron Horse,” Arizin should have been called the “Iron Lung.” Many thought he suffered from asthma, but the real problem was a sinus condition that had begun when he was young. At least that’s what Arizin told anybody who asked. “It never hurt my endurance,” he said. Nope, it just hurt people’s ears.

“Everybody thought he was dying,” says Ernie Beck, a standout at Penn and a teammate of Arizin’s for six years with the Warriors. “He would be breathing heavy all the time, and people thought he was tired. I would practice against him, and I would say, ‘Paul, you’re a fake. You’re just trying to set me up.’”

Opponents couldn’t imagine that it didn’t affect him. The up-tempo Celtics always figured they had an advantage over Philadelphia, because their fastbreaking style would eventually send Arizin wheezing to the bench, or better yet, an oxygen tent.

“It was always amazing to me that he could finish a game,” former Celtic forward Tom Heinsohn says.

The grunts, gasps, coughs and rattle never stopped Arizin. Most opponents couldn’t, either. The Hall of Famer reached the All-Star Game in each of his 10 seasons in the League. He averaged 22.8 ppg for his career and was a trailblazer in a game that had been dominated by set shooters and earth-bound performers. It was nothing to see Arizin pull up from 20 on the break and send that line-drive J of his through the hoop. Sounds like he would have been perfect for today’s game.

“He was part of the pioneer phase of the NBA,” Heinsohn says.

That’s for certain. Try to imagine someone in the League today who never played high school ball and after being discovered by his college coach playing in dance halls and church leagues eventually becoming the national college Player of the Year. How’s that for the Old Days? Try to imagine the recruiting sleuths today overlooking a talent like Arizin or big-time coaches not showering him and his people with affection.

That’s as unreasonable as the idea of an All-Star’s quitting to play in the minors because his franchise moved to another city. That’s what Arizin did in 1962, when the Warriors went west to San Francisco. He wasn’t interested in playing anywhere but Philadelphia, and the Golden State didn’t excite him. So, he took a real job and spent three years in the Eastern League, providing further credence to the fact that he played the game because he loved it.

“Paul came to play, did his job and went home,” says Al Attles, who played two of his 11 NBA seasons with Arizin in Philadelphia. “The thing that impressed me as a young kid coming out of college was that he would come to practice and then go home to his family.

“He taught me what the NBA was all about. Work hard and come prepared to do your job.”

That was Arizin. He was a Philly guy. He was born there, played ball there and he died there, in 2006.

Arizin was also a pure scorer, whose jump shot confounded defenders and whose rocking, jab step move created space for him to squeeze the trigger over taller opponents. Arizin was relentless on the court but amiable and generous off it. He may have sounded on the court like the wreck of the Old 97, but he was first class off it.

“Paul was one of the most honest guys I ever met,” says Tom Meschery, who spent his rookie season—Arizin’s last—with the Warriors. “He was completely without guile and was a great, straightforward guy.

“But he was one of the best offensive players of all time.”

***

The hoop was a coat hanger, and the ball was a wad of socks. Sonny Hill would retreat to his bedroom on the third floor of his grandmother’s Philadelphia house and transform himself into Paul Arizin. Make that “Number 11, Paul Arizin,” as Hill always said while providing the play-by-play soundtrack for his imaginary games.

“Paul’s game was a transitional game,” says Hill, himself an excellent player who is an advisor to the 76ers and former TV analyst on CBS’ NBA telecasts. “He could have played in the modern game. He had that kind of skill and played like they do now.”

Hill was a standout prep player who spent two years in college before joining the Eastern League in the late ’50s. The NBA had only eight franchises at the time, and the unspoken quota of two African-American players per team meant those Eastern squads had some pretty good talent. In 1962, the Camden Bullets added Arizin, who had scored 21.9 ppg the year before with the Warriors. Suddenly, Hill was playing with his hero, the man he idolized and after whose jump shot he patterned his own.

“What a thrill,” Hill says. “Imagine that Paul Arizin passed you the ball. And then, he told you to shoot the ball.”

Arizin didn’t set out to change the game. In fact, his jumper was developed out of necessity, instead of some burst of athletic creativity. Because he was cut as a senior from his team at La Salle HS, Arizin found himself scrambling for the opportunity to play. He joined teams in church and independent leagues and ended up playing on courts that weren’t quite regulation. Some were dance floors that were so slippery Arizin would lose his balance when he tried to plant for a hook shot. So, he jumped. Pretty soon, he was shooting nothing but jumpers, at a time when the hook and push shots dominated basketball.

But he was doing it against neighborhood guys and servicemen returning from the war. During the day, he studied chemistry at Villanova, whose coach, Al Severance, knew nothing about him. Upon seeing Arizin in a rec league, Severance offered him a shot to play for the Wildcats, a decision that resulted in Arizin’s joining the college ranks.

Venerable Associated Press basketball writer Jack Scheuer calls Arizin “Villanova’s best player,” quite a statement given the school’s long basketball history. But Scheuer is right: Arizin averaged 20.0 ppg for his career, including 25.3 a contest as a senior, when he was a consensus First-Team All-American and named National Player of the Year by Sporting News. In a 1949 NCAA Tourney game against Kentucky, Arizin poured in 30 to match UK standout Alex Groza.

In those days, the NBA granted its franchises territorial picks, the better to let them cash in on the popularity of local players. That meant Philadelphia had the rights to Arizin. (It’s how the Warriors ended up with Wilt Chamberlain, too.) After a solid rookie season (17.2 ppg) in 1950-51, Arizin led the NBA in scoring the following year with 25.4 ppg and also grabbed 11.3 rpg. Only legendary Lakers big man George Mikan and the Warriors’ Joe Fulks had ever scored more per game.

Arizin may have been able to flummox opposing defenders, but he couldn’t overcome the US Marine Corps, which drafted him into service during the Korean War. After his two-year stint, Arizin returned to the NBA as if he hadn’t missed a minute of play. After registering 21.0 ppg in 1954-55, he scored 24.2 a night the following year and led the Warriors to the League’s best record. In the Playoffs, Arizin was a fireball, pouring in 28.9 ppg a night and helping Philadelphia to its second-ever Championship.

Arizin could score, but he wasn’t merely a gunner. He pulled down 8.6 boards a game during his career and never shied away from the rough stuff. Though 6-4, he didn’t mind defensive assignments inside and wasn’t afraid of contact, as some shooters were.

“He did whatever was needed on the floor,” Hill says. “Paul was a competitor.”

That meant he would square off against players like Fort Wayne bruiser Mel Hutchins, 7-footer Walter Dukes of Detroit, and of course, Boston’s “Jungle” Jim Loscutoff, a 6-5, 220-pound ball of muscle for whom finesse was an alien concept. “Loscutoff used to work on him, but Paul was a strong guy,” Beck says. “If he got knocked down, he got right up.”

Beck roomed on the road with Arizin during their time with the Warriors and reports that the first thing his friend did upon arriving in a new town was seek out the Catholic church nearest to their hotel and learn the Mass schedule. “He kept me on the straight and narrow,” says Beck, who accompanied Arizin to church.

It’s hard to find someone who wasn’t impressed with Arizin’s character. OK, so he was a little frugal, but he was generous with his time and advice. Attles remembers joining Philadelphia in 1960 and trying to figure out how the pros handled themselves. He had no better example than Arizin.

“When you came out of college, where you went to classes all the time, and all of a sudden, you were living on the road, you needed role models,” Attles says. “Paul was one of them. When a guy was older, and a young guy comes in and sees him coming to work every day, that helps.”

Arizin led the League in scoring again in ’56-57, with 25.6 a game. Two years later, he averaged a career-high 26.4 ppg. But while Arizin continued to accumulate points and All-Star recognition, the Warriors couldn’t get past Boston in the Eastern Conference hierarchy. Even when Wilt joined the team in 1959 and was part of a contingent of legendary Philadelphia products that included Arizin, Tom Gola, Guy Rodgers and Beck, the Warriors were unable to supplant the Celtics, who functioned as a remarkable unit.

“Needless to say, we knew each other pretty well,” Heinsohn says of Philadelphia and Boston. “We had six set plays, and everybody in the League knew we had six set plays. But we were like the old Green Bay Packers and their sweep. Execution counts. We had so many counter moves off the plays, so people never knew what we would do.”

The 1962 Eastern Conference final matchup between Boston and Philadelphia was a seven-game classic that was decided in the final seconds of a two-point Celtic win. Afterward, Attles reports there was some grousing in the Warriors’ locker room about a controversial referee’s call at game’s end. Arizin put an immediate end to the complaining.

“He stood up and said, ‘We just were not good enough,’” Attles says. “That put a lid on it. That was Paul Arizin.”

After that season, Warriors owner Eddie Gottlieb sold the team and moved it to California, two years after the Lakers had migrated there from Minneapolis. Arizin didn’t like that too much and decided he would rather retire than head west, despite averaging 21.9 ppg in ’61-62. “He had three more years in his career,” Hill says. Arizin also had a house at the Jersey shore, a family that would eventually include four children and a new job with IBM as a sales manager.

“It wasn’t like it is now, where if you play one more year, you can retire forever,” says Heinsohn, who built a successful life insurance business while playing. “Everybody had to do something else.”

So, Arizin went to work for IBM and played with the Camden Bullets in the Eastern League, a 10-time All-Star in the semi-pro ranks. But he loved his family and his city, just as he adored the game. It’s hard to imagine one of today’s stars following the same path, but pro basketball in the early ‘60s barely resembled its 21st century counterpart. Arizin, however, would have been quite recognizable today, thanks to his athletic ability, his jump shot and all-around offensive game.

No matter how it all sounded.

Michael Bradley is a Senior Writer at SLAM. Follow him on Twitter @DailyHombre.

The post Paul Wall appeared first on SLAM.

It makes sense, really. When Meyers the player was off the court, he was as pleasant and mild as anyone. He was considered a great friend, a man with an easy laugh and a calm countenance. “He was a gentle, compassionate guy,” says former UCLA and Milwaukee Bucks teammate Marques Johnson. Meyers was unselfish, pragmatic and sensible.

Until he hit the court.

That’s when the quiet guy in the corner became a furious basketball force. The 6-8, 215-pound forward would dunk on anybody in pickup games, trade elbows with beefy power forwards who had 30 pounds on him and dive for loose balls. Meyers’ on-court persona was so different from his everyday behavior that some couldn’t believe anyone was capable of such divergent character traits.

“He played with reckless abandon,” Johnson says. “He was quiet, but he played with great spirit. He didn’t back down to big guys. He would get knocked down and get up and get in people’s faces. He talked trash to the beastliest black guys in the League. He was also a great teammate.”

Meyers’ spirit defined him as a player and a person. And it made him a beloved teammate. He gave of himself both in the game and away from it, and when he decided to leave basketball—abruptly—after the 1979-80 season, he refused to enter that world again. His back ached. His family beckoned. His Jehovah’s Witness religion offered him a place away from the materialistic NBA world. David Meyers’ basketball career was filled with highlights, but he never let that define him. Today, he lives and works in Southern California, content to be a fourth-grade schoolteacher. His sole basketball work is done with kids, far away from the big-time hoops world he once inhabited.

“What really impressed me about his retirement was that he was saying life is more important than basketball,” says Sidney Moncrief, who played with Meyers in Milwaukee.

Some see Meyers’ retreat as a mystery. Those who knew him aren’t surprised at all. Why would someone who put others first be consumed with squeezing every basket and dollar out of a game that he didn’t believe really defined him? When it was time to leave, Meyers left. There was no hand wringing or agony—except for his back pain. It was the right choice.

“He was such an easy, talented guy,” Moncrief says. “Because of his personality and skill level, he’s one of my favorite teammates. He was a team guy—that’s what he cared about.”

***

The Meyers’ house in La Habra, CA, had a staircase that featured a landing about four steps from the second floor. From there, it was 12 more steps to the first. When they were young, David and his sister, Ann, two years his junior, would see how many steps they could jump down without hurting themselves. At first, they made it five or six. “But David was so competitive,” Ann says. “He kept going until he could jump down 12.”

Listening to Ann speak about her big brother is a fascinating exercise. Here is someone who was a pioneer in women’s basketball. Who was the first-ever four-time All-American while at UCLA. Who played on a Silver medal-winning Olympic team, was married to the late baseball great Don Drysdale and won two WNBA titles as GM of the Phoenix Mercury. She’s a Hall of Famer, a sporting legend in her own right. When she talks about her big brother, though, she sounds almost star-struck.

“I feel blessed to be his sister,” says Ann, who is now a VP of the Phoenix Suns and Mercury. “When I was younger, I was the tag-along.”

Meyers was one of 11 children. His father, Bob, was a former Marquette hoops star who captained the team during the 1944-45 season, and his mother, Pat, eventually became close friends with legendary UCLA coach John Wooden’s wife, Nellie, a bond forged by the time they spent together at UCLA games. “They would go out at halftime of games to smoke,” Ann says.

Sports were the common currency in the Meyers house, and everybody played just about everything, whether it was hoops in the pool, football on the beach or organized sports. David was born in San Diego and moved with his family to Chicago in the early 1960s but returned to Southern California in time for high school—Sonora High—where he earned state Player of the Year honors and the attention of Wooden, or as Ann calls him, “Papa.” That was enough for him. It was on to UCLA.

When Meyers arrived in Westwood in the fall of 1971, few people in the college basketball community noticed. The important UCLA names then were Bill Walton and Keith (later Jamaal) Wilkes, sophomores who were moving up to the varsity (freshmen weren’t eligible to play then) and who were expected to continue the program’s streak of five consecutive National Titles.

By the time Meyers joined the Bruins’ varsity in 1972, the team had made it six Championships and had embarked on the legendary 88-game winning streak. There wasn’t a lot of room for Meyers in the lineup, and his numbers (4.9 ppg, 2.9 rpg) reflected that. He played in all but two of the Bruins’ games that year and logged 10 minutes in the ’73 National Title game against Memphis State, but he was a decidedly complementary cog.

“Coach [John] Wooden referred to him as a gangly colt,” Johnson says. “I read that when I was a senior at [Los Angeles’] Crenshaw High. I didn’t know a lot about him when I got to UCLA, but he was a long, hustling type of player.”

Meyers moved into the starting lineup as a junior and became a substantial contributor, scoring 11.4 ppg and grabbing 5.7 rpg on a team still dominated by Wilkes and Walton but had room for the energetic power forward.

“He was like Connie Hawkins,” Walton says. “He could soar through the air. He had fantastic hands and was a great rebounder. He was phenomenal on the fastbreak and great on the press. He could really play.”

Unfortunately for UCLA, 1973-74 was the season of ended streaks. First, Notre Dame spoiled the 88-game winning string. Then came the “lost weekend” in the Pacific Northwest, when Oregon State and Oregon dumped the Bruins on back-to-back days, ending their run of 50 consecutive Pac-8 victories. Finally, in one of the greatest NCAA Tournament games ever played, in the national semifinals, North Carolina State defeated UCLA, 80-77, in double overtime to put an end to the program’s seven-season-long National Championship run. “I let [Meyers] down when I was a senior,” Walton says of the game that he considers the lowest point of his basketball career.

Meyers still had a year to go with UCLA, unlike the Redhead, who was on his way to the NBA. He had provided a fine counterbalance to the senior-laden starting group of ’73-74 that tried to impose its specific culture on the team. Meyers was now ready to be a leader.

“Dave was a fun guy to be around,” says Richard Washington, a sophomore forward on the ’73-74 team and later a teammate of Meyers’ in Milwaukee. “He was mellow and low-key but was an excellent leader. The last year he was here, we were able to relax. Walton and those guys were so intense. They were trying to get us to be vegetarian, do Transcendental Meditation and protest this or that. We wanted to play basketball.”

Wooden named Meyers captain for the 1974-75 season. The forward was the sole returning starter on the team, and he joked in a 1995 interview with the Los Angeles Times that “I imagine reading that Dave Meyers was UCLA’s only returning starter was not something to fear.”

As usual, Meyers was underselling himself. He averaged 18.3 ppg and 7.9 rpg that year and was a unanimous First-Team All-American. Though the Bruins lacked recognizable names around him, Johnson, Washington, Andre McCarter and Pete Trgovich moved up from the reserve ranks and joined him in a formidable five. The Bruins won the Pac-8 title and headed into the NCAA Tournament ranked second in the nation.

After defeating Louisville in a dramatic, national semifinal decision, Wooden delivered some news that stunned his players. He would be retiring from coaching after the National Title game against Kentucky. “I don’t think there was any doubt in anybody’s mind when we went into [the final] that we were going to win,” Washington says.

The Bruins did prevail, 92-85, thanks in large part to Meyers’ 24 points, 11 boards and 3 blocks. UCLA had earned its 10th championship in 12 years, erased the bad memory of the previous season’s defeat and sent Wooden into retirement as the ultimate champion. Meyers, who had arrived on campus as a relative unknown, had been the leader of the last hurrah.

“If I was putting together a college team, I would want a player like Dave Meyers on that team,” says McCarter, the Bruins’ point guard that year. “I am proud to have played with Dave Meyers.”

• • •

Though Meyers is known by many primarily for his decision to curtail his professional career, he is also a footnote on one of the most important trades in NBA history. The Lakers drafted him second overall in 1975 and less than three weeks later dealt him, along with Junior Bridgeman, Brian Winters and Elmore Smith, to Milwaukee for Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Walt Wesley. The Bucks had sagged to last in the Midwest Division—a year after taking Boston to seven games in the NBA Finals—largely because of Oscar Robertson’s retirement. Abdul-Jabbar had asked to be traded eight months earlier, to New York or L.A., and the Bucks couldn’t persuade him to reverse course.

So, instead of going home to Southern California, Meyers was heading to Wisconsin.

He encountered a Bucks team that was struggling to find its identity without Abdul-Jabbar. Although Milwaukee won the Midwest Division in his rookie year, 1975-76, it posted just a 38-44 record and was ousted in the first round of the Playoffs. The Bucks slid to 30-52 the next season, finishing last, but rebounded to go 44-38 the next year, good for second place and a spot in the Western semifinals. Meyers played well, but his stats weren’t overwhelming—7.4 ppg, 6.2 rpg in ’75-76; 9.7 ppg, 6.8 rpg in ’76-77. Not that it was a problem for him. The goal was to compete and win.

“He took every ballgame seriously,” Smith says. “Dave was tough. He was the kind of guy you wanted on your team. You didn’t worry about his end. You knew he would hold it up.”

Smith and Meyers became fast friends. During their second season in Milwaukee, Smith was having a condominium built, and he and his family moved in with Meyers and his wife. In 1975, Smith had already become a Jehovah’s Witness during a mass baptism at Dodger Stadium. A couple years later, after speaking at times with Smith, Meyers converted from Catholicism.
“I brought it to his attention,” Smith says. “That’s what you do, when you get a chance and find someone who wants to live in a different way. You feel obligated to tell them about it. Over time, he took it and ran with it.”

While Meyers was making a large life change, his basketball career was enduring some trials. Despite scoring 14.7 ppg and pulling down 6.7 boards for the ’77-78 Bucks who finished second and lost to Denver in the Western semis, Meyers hurt his back and was unable to play at all the following year. Although he returned in 1979 and averaged 12.1 ppg and 5.7 rpg, he was in constant pain. The team wasn’t too sympathetic. “What they did to him in Milwaukee regarding his back was shameful,” Walton says.

By 1980, Meyers was gone. He didn’t want to fight through the pain any longer, and he wanted to see his two children more than half a year. According to Ann Meyers, Milwaukee GM Wayne Embry called Wooden and asked whether Meyers was holding out for more money. “Wooden said, ‘You don’t know David,’” Ann says. Meyers’ style of play didn’t blend with the NBA’s star power ethos. He wasn’t a good-time party guy, either. It was time to move on. Meyers was just fine with that. Others weren’t. “People don’t understand why other people want to spend time with their kids,” Ann says.

Smith wasn’t at all surprised by Meyers’ actions. The two had spoken often about how incongruent the world of professional basketball was with their faith and the way they wanted to live.

“What we were learning at the time in our religion went against what it took to perform in sports and to be a winner,” Smith says. “You had to have a killer instinct.

“I’m proud of Dave.”

It’s hard not to be.

Photos via Getty Images

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